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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189987">hold you close, tonight and always</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunandthestars/pseuds/thesunandthestars'>thesunandthestars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon and AU, F/M, and everything in between, fluff and angst and the whole shebang, for all your bughead needs, just a little collection of bughead moments, when i get inspired i’ll dump more words in here, you’re welcome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189987</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunandthestars/pseuds/thesunandthestars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bughead: good for the mind and the soul.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, other background relationships too</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Riverdale Bingo Winter 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from the song Pillowtalk by Zayn.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky’s the bluest Betty’s ever seen, not a cloud in sight. Sunlight casts a warm glow on her face as she leans back into the plush seats of Archie’s convertible, running her fingers through her already wind-blown hair. Giddiness is bubbling up inside her, and when she stretches her arms in a v-shape toward the sky, it feels like she’s flying. </p><p>Yesterday was a whirlwind of navy blue graduation gowns and crisp white diplomas, teary-eyed parents and milkshakes at Pop’s. Tomorrow, Betty will begin a new chapter of her life, one that starts with Connecticut and Yale and Chinese takeout on the floor of a tiny apartment. But today, in the twenty-four hours in between, she can celebrate. She can live in the moment, not worrying about murders or college applications, cults or the SAT. Today, as she leans into the familiar warmth of Jughead’s embrace, she is free. </p><p>Archie pulls onto the side of the road into an oft-visited clearing, killing the engine as a second car rolls up beside them. “Fancy seeing you here,” Kevin jokes, turning the knob on his stereo to silence the show tunes he’d been blasting. (Sweet Pea, who’s lounging in the back, looks visibly relieved.) “You guys picked up the food, right?”</p><p>Jughead holds up the huge takeout bag from Pop’s that had been resting in his lap. “A dozen burgers, nine milkshakes, six large sides of fries, three sides of onion rings, and…” He digs through the bag. “Some condiments.”</p><p>“That better be true by the time we get down to the swimming hole, Jones,” Kevin replies pointedly, hopping out of the car and rummaging through the trunk. </p><p>Jughead shakes his head, feigning offense. He leans back against the side of Archie’s car. “You wound me, Keller,” he says through a mouthful of fries. </p><p>Kevin looks up and groans. “Betty, could you…?”</p><p>Betty looks up at her boyfriend expectantly, who pretends to pout as he hands over the food. She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Go help Kev with the towels.”</p><p>Jughead exhales amusedly, eyes dancing, and after a beat, he turns to help Kevin. He’s back at her side in thirty seconds, however, digging into the bag for a fry before Betty can react. “Jug,” she laughs, slipping her free hand into his before he can reach for another fry. “We’ll be at the swimming hole in less than five minutes. I’m sure you can wait until then.”</p><p>Towels under one arm, Jughead grins. “I don’t know,” he replies. His hand finds her waist, thumb slipping under the hem of her shirt. His lips brush against her temple, voice low. “I have an insatiable appetite.” </p><p>“We’re in public, Jughead Jones,” Betty scolds, but tugs him closer. He smells like coffee and spice and <i>him</i>, and it feels so good to be one step closer to forever with him. </p><p>Luckily, but surprisingly, the Sweetwater swimming hole is deserted when they reach it, ducking under the old bridge and laying their towels out flat on the riverbank. Their whole extended friend group is here: Cheryl and Toni, who apparently brought foldable lounge chairs; Sweet Pea and Fangs, sporting their Serpent tattoos and plain black swim trunks; and Archie, Veronica, and Kevin, the latter of whom pulls out a portable speaker and turns on more showtimes. “Jesus, Keller,” Sweet Pea groans as the opening notes of “Defying Gravity” play, “would it kill you to listen to something that <i>isn’t</i> from a Broadway musical?”</p><p>“Fine, you can pick the next song,” Kevin acquiesces. “But please, for the sake of all of us, don’t play something weird and dark.”</p><p>Sweet Pea scoffs. “Oh, so you can play the <i>Heathers</i> soundtrack the whole way here and you’re calling the music I listen to weird and dark?”</p><p>“Might I remind you that you played the lead male role in our production of <i>Heathers</i> last year—”</p><p>“Alright, you two,” Cheryl cuts in, lifting her cherry-red sunglasses with minor annoyance. “Quit bickering. You both sound like someone pissed in your rose bush.” She flips a lock of hair over her shoulder. “And Kev, I love you dearly, but <i>please</i> play something else. If I have to hear one more peppy show tune I am going to shove that speaker down your throat.”</p><p>Kevin puts his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, go ahead and attack the gay theater kid. Jeez.”</p><p>Betty slips over to Kevin’s side, linking their arms together. “Let’s go for a swim,” she suggests in an effort to lighten the mood. They’re supposed to be celebrating, after all, not slinging insults and not-so-subtly threatening comments. “Anyone else want to join?”</p><p>Within minutes there’s a pile of clothes on the bank as nine newly minted high school graduates cannonball into the swimming hole, laughing and splashing water at each other. Cheryl’s still wearing her sunglasses as she and Toni glide through the water in the respective red and pink swimsuits, steering clear of Sweet Pea and Fangs as they dunk each other over and over. Jughead gets halfheartedly roped into their antics, and he drags Betty along for the ride. She gets an unbelievable amount of water up her nose, but it’s worth the unbridled grin on Jughead’s face and the warmth of his hands on her waist in the cool river water as they fool around with their friends. </p><p>And later, as Jughead pulls her even closer, swaying to the music only they can hear, Betty swears her heart is bursting. Everything is perfect, for lack of a better word. The past few years have sucked but she’s lived through them. Here she is, with the people she loves, not having to worry about finding a body or solving a murder or taking down a group of rather obnoxious preppies. Here, she has no worries at all, in this space between yesterday and tomorrow. She has no worries at all, for one day, and Betty’s so relieved that tears well up in her eyes. </p><p>They stay at the swimming hole for hours, long after their swimsuits have dried and the food has run out. Out here, the stars are visible through the trees, and Betty points out as many constellations as she knows, curled up against Jughead’s side. The moment feels suspended in time, as she lies in the grass with the people she’s learned to call family. They talk about everything and nothing, laughing and bickering and sometimes just lying in silence. </p><p>She’s not sure when she falls asleep, but when she opens her eyes, tomorrow has arrived. Jughead’s arms are around her, the sheets pulled up to their necks. (He must have carried her home.) It’s still dark, but she can feel Jughead’s heartbeat against her back, and she hasn’t lost that feeling of flying. It’s still there, carrying her above the clouds, and though she knows that some days will be harder than others, she hopes she never loses this feeling. Tomorrow is here, she knows, and she’s ready for it. </p><p>Betty tucks her blanket under her chin and smiles.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>After everything that’s been happening on Riverdale (and in the world) recently, I needed a little bit of post-graduation fluff. These kids deserve it.</p><p>Hopefully I will be adding to this collection over the next few weeks (months?) as school is closed. I’ve been wishing I had a chance to really sit down and write recently, and hey, I got my wish. Just not in the way any of us really wanted. Oh well.</p><p>Read away, and stay safe out there! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. golden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun has already begun to set, oranges and blues fading into violet as the light slowly sinks past the skyline of the city. It’s what she notices first, even before the cacophony of voices and the blinding flashes of cameras. She steps out of the car, captivated by the gentle brushstrokes of color across the sky, even as the whole world has its eyes on her and her stunning <i>Little Mermaid</i>-inspired Paolo Sebastian gown. </p>
<p>Betty Cooper nods politely at the crowd, a radiant smile slipping easily onto her face. Reporters shove their microphones over the red velvet ropes, hoping to get a few words out of America’s favorite star. To the world, she’s the epitome of a golden girl—wholesome, beautiful, talented, sweet—and it’s not a difficult image to maintain. As a child, growing up in small-town New York, Betty was the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect student. She took APs and organized bake sales and tutored on weekends, maintaining a 4.0 GPA while running the school newspaper and attending every sports game, pom-poms in hand. </p>
<p>It was her mother who originally pushed Betty to begin acting, signing both of her young girls up for the school play every year. Alice Cooper flew her daughters down to Los Angeles for auditions several times a year, all the while pushing Betty and her older sister Polly to get the best grades and take on the most extracurriculars. Not a month after high school graduation had Betty been casted as the lead role in Disney’s newest animated movie, catapulting to stardom at nineteen. Now, four years later, she’s become everything she’s been conditioned to be her whole life—an actress, a model, a writer. Famous, respected, adored. </p>
<p>Perfect. </p>
<p>(It doesn’t matter that she sometimes feels like she’s drowning, like there’s a tidal wave pulling her under. But it’s not water that crashes over her, it’s blood—blood that seeps out of her skin every time she presses her nails into her palms.)</p>
<p>She presses her palms flat against the silky fabric of her dress as she ascends the stairs, holding her head high and forcing herself to breathe. Lightly and delicately, of course, and she must keep smiling through it. She can never let them see her, <i>truly</i> see her. They can never know her pain, her darkness. They can only know her light. </p>
<p>The doors close behind her and some of the tension falls from her shoulders. The majority of the paparazzi is now behind her, but there are still cameras flashing over by the step-and-repeat backdrop and Betty has been instructed to head over there at some point tonight. For now, though, she can breathe a little bit easier, and she forces herself to push all her spiraling thoughts aside. </p>
<p>She recognizes many of the famous faces around her. Actors, screenwriters, musicians, models—this is the most exclusive event of the year, and a little part of Betty still can’t believe she’s on the list. She’s surrounded by dozens of other incredibly famous celebrities, most of which, like her, have images to maintain. Some of them, she knows, have abandoned whatever façade was forced upon them. They’re wholly themselves and Betty greatly admires them for that. She’s tried to do the same, to be true to herself and stop pretending to be something she’s not, but there are things she cannot share. Perfection is so deeply ingrained in her now, after eighteen years under Alice’s roof and another four in Hollywood, and the imperfections that she does have could very well shatter her entire foundation. </p>
<p>(The world doesn’t know that she was officially diagnosed with anxiety and depression at fourteen years old. The world doesn’t know that she never waves at fans or at cameras because she can’t risk them seeing the red, crescent-shaped imprints in her palms. The world doesn’t know that she single-handedly took down a serial killer when she was sixteen, a man who, when unmasked, turned out to be her own father.)</p>
<p>“Betty Cooper,” a familiar voice murmurs, jolting her out of her thoughts, and Betty spins around excitedly, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. Jughead Jones chuckles at her enthusiasm, lips curled into that half-grin she loves so much. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”</p>
<p>“Juggie,” she laughs, trying to reign in her cheek-splitting grin. “You saw me three hours ago.”</p>
<p>“I know.” He leans ever so slightly closer, fingers brushing hers. “But I still missed you. And you look gorgeous, by the way.”</p>
<p>She snorts. “Charmer.” But she still blushes, warmth washing over her at the way he’s looking at her. God, she wishes she could kiss him, but they’re in public and there are cameras not twenty feet away. They’re not even supposed to be standing this close, smiling this affectionately—if anyone managed to sneak a photo of them right now, it would be completely obvious that there’s something going on between them. And no one is supposed to know that. </p>
<p>It sucks to have to pretend like this. Perfection, she can manage. She can ignore the tightness of her throat and other tell-tale signs of anxiety, putting on a brave face and smiling her way through it. But love is so much more difficult to hide. With Jughead, she smiles too <i>much</i>, too genuinely, and it reaches her eyes every time. She naturally gravitates toward him, drawn to his warmth, and it’s just so <i>difficult</i> to pretend she doesn’t know him as well as she does. </p>
<p>Because <i>oh</i>, does she know him. She knows every shade of blue in his eyes, knows the way his smile feels under her fingertips. She knows the taste of his love, his sadness, and his pain, knows the warmth of his arms around her. She’s spent countless hours mapping every inch of his skin with her hands and her lips, connecting every mole to create constellations more beautiful than any she’s ever seen in the night sky. She knows him like the back of her hand and loving him feels so right.</p>
<p>They’ve been dating for almost eight months now, but Betty’s manager has convinced her to keep it under wraps for a while in order to give her new movie plenty of time in the spotlight. (It makes sense—the second that the tabloids get ahold of a picture of America’s sweetheart out in public with this year’s People’s Choice Male Actor-slash-New York Times bestselling author, they’ll make headlines for weeks, if not months.) When the publicity dies down, she and Jughead will be able to decide how they want to explore the eventual public side of their relationship. But for now, they’re limited to date nights at one or the other’s apartment or outings with a larger group to maintain the “just friends” façade. </p>
<p>It sucks to have to hide this part of her, but part of her also enjoys the privacy. Once they go public, they’ll get more attention than Kim and Kanye. </p>
<p>“Well,” Betty begins, shaking off her train of thought, “I’m going to go…mingle.” She dons the signature Cooper smile, stepping back from Jughead ever so slightly. His lips twitch, the beginnings of an affectionate smile, and with that, he’s disappeared into the crowd. </p>
<p>Betty wanders through the building, admiring the crystal chandeliers and sparking up polite conversation with the occasional guest. After four years of attending all manner of celebrations and award ceremonies, Betty knows that there is little to do besides talk, so she busies herself with polite chatter about her new movie and other harmless topics. </p>
<p>She finds herself back in the main hall after a rather riveting conversation with one Kevin Keller, a director in his mid-thirties that she’d worked with a few years back and has always admired for his easy conversational skills. Photographers are still clicking away over by the backdrop, and in an effort to get it over with, Betty marches purposefully toward the backdrop and waits her turn before stepping out into the spotlight. </p>
<p>Cameras flashing, reporters oohing and aahing at the intricate embroidery and beadwork on her gown, Betty plays the part of America’s golden girl. She smiles brightly, pauses after every step to change her pose, and keeps her chin up. </p>
<p>Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a familiar sweep of dark hair. Jughead’s at the other end of the backdrop, and he’s sticking his thumb up at the camera. She shakes her head amusedly, the movement barely perceptible, but Jughead seems to sense her gaze on him and he glances at her. </p>
<p>They’re walking the razor’s edge now, Betty knows, as she watches Jughead draw his lip between his teeth for a beat before seemingly remembering that there are cameras catching his every movement. Betty’s been staring at him too long, too, and she heeds the photographers’ pleas for a certain pose, calling forth her practiced smile. The photographers to her left call her attention again, and she sneaks a glance at Jughead to find he’s already grinning at her again. He winks, blue eyes sparkling with affection and mischief. </p>
<p>Betty bites her lip to tamper her grin before she remembers that she’s supposed to be smiling.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter really got away from me. I originally wrote over 2,000 words and then remembered this was supposed to be a drabble. And it’s still long. Oops. Hopefully this AU is as fun to read as it was to write. :)</p>
<p>As a side note, the dress Betty’s wearing is actually one that Lili wore in 2018 that I absolutely fell in love with. It’s part of a Disney-inspired collection and it’s <i>gorgeous</i>. You can find good pictures <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b4/49/95/b449956c0f3d52c05e0ab07133515a9f.jpg">here</a> and <a href="https://style.disney.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/Lili-Reinhart-Little-Mermaid-Dress.jpg">here</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. everything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Sports rivals.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m pregnant and the baby is Dilton Doiley’s.”</p>
<p>Betty’s head snaps up. “What?!”</p>
<p>Veronica raises a sleek, dark eyebrow. “So is that what it’s going to take to get your attention?”</p>
<p>Betty flushes. “I’m sorry. I was…distracted.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, I’m glad I could finally get your attention. You’ve been lost in your head ever since the game ended.” Veronica looks slightly worried now, placing a hand on Betty’s arm comfortingly. “You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Betty says, waving off her concern. “Sorry. It’s just…I’ve got a test coming up I’m nervous for.” She winces the second the words come out of her mouth, knowing Veronica would never believe that Betty Cooper, straight-A student and top of her class, is worried about passing a test. </p>
<p>Even though she looks skeptical, Veronica doesn’t question it. “Okay. Well, I just wanted to know, before we head out...” She digs through her purse, brow furrowed. “Wait. One second.”</p>
<p>Betty glances at her phone again, for the millionth time that evening. <i>8:59 PM.</i></p>
<p>Veronica’s still digging through her purse for something as the numbers switch. <i>9:00 PM.</i> Betty stands up abruptly, smoothing her cheer skirt. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, V, I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t wait for Veronica to respond as she slips away into the crowd of high school students and makes her way to the women’s bathroom on the far side of the stands. She weaves past a particularly rowdy group of Southsiders, who are cheering with glee at their recent victory as a couple of Riverdale football players glare at them from a few feet away. Betty accidentally brushes against a tall, dark-haired boy with a snake tattoo on his neck, apologizing instinctively even as she continues toward the bathroom. She can feel the boy’s gaze following her and she rolls her eyes, cursing her short cheer skirt. She’s trying to be covert, for God’s sake. </p>
<p>Betty pokes her head into the bathroom, scanning the room for any other girls, but thankfully, the room seems empty. She can only hope it will stay that way for the next few minutes. </p>
<p>There are a few rows of lockers to her right and Betty disappears down the last one, ducking into a little alcove and pulling her phone out of her skirt. She opens her most recent text thread. <i>All clear</i>, she writes. <i>Come on in.</i> </p>
<p>She hears the door swing open only a few moments later, footsteps nearing her hiding spot. Betty can’t help the smile that slips onto her face as a familiar head of dark hair and a red and black Southside High football jersey comes into view. </p>
<p>“Hey, Betts,” Jughead Jones says, and then his arms are around her and his lips are on hers. </p>
<p>“Juggie,” she gasps into his mouth, hands flying up to tangle in his hair. He chuckles against her mouth, arms pulling her even closer. </p>
<p>“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, nosing along her jaw. She shivers in delight. “I saw you out there in your little skirt and I wanted to kiss the hell out of you, Northside-Southside rivalry be damned.”</p>
<p>Betty sighs, fingers carding through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “I’ve missed you too,” she admits, giggling as their noses bump together. “Good job tonight, Mr. Quarterback,” she adds teasingly. “I was rooting for you.”</p>
<p>He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh really, Miss Cheerleader? You were rooting for the other team?” A mischievous grin curls his lips and disappears into her neck. “How naughty.”</p>
<p>“We…<i>Jug</i>, we can’t take too long.” She’s panting now, and Jughead works his way back up to her lips to swallow her gasps. His hands are cradling her face and she wants nothing more than to stay right here with him, but Veronica is waiting for her and her mother will kill her if she isn’t home soon. </p>
<p>“Just a few more minutes.” She can feel his heart racing against her chest, and a little jolt of pride runs through her at the knowledge that she’s affecting him just as much as he’s affecting her. “Please.” He pulls at the turtleneck of her white undershirt to suck at her neck.</p>
<p>“Jug,” she whines, cupping his face and bringing his lips back to hers. “No marks.”</p>
<p>“I know.” He groans exasperatedly. “God, I know. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>She is too. She wants him to mark her and make her his, but hickeys are evidence. No one can ever know that perfect Northsider Betty Cooper has been sneaking around with a Southsider for months. Technically, they’re dating—they’ve had the labels conversation—but it’s not like it matters. No one knows that Betty is dating the son of a Serpent, and no one knows that Jughead is dating Alice Cooper’s precious daughter. And it has to stay that way. </p>
<p>Betty pulls back, just enough to look into his eyes. They’re big and blue and blown out with lust, but there’s understanding there too. “I wish…I wish we didn’t have to do this,” she begins. It’s a conversation they’ve had many times before, but not once has it gone anywhere. There’s really nothing they can do. “I wish we didn’t have to hide. I wish our town wasn’t divided and we could be together for real without my mom grounding me for life and dumping your body who knows where.”</p>
<p>“That’s a lot of wishing,” Jughead muses. His thumb brushes her cheek again and again. “But I know how you feel. I’m not ashamed of you, I hope you know that.” He laughs mirthlessly. “If anything, you should be ashamed of me. You’re way too good for me.”</p>
<p>“Jug,” she chastises, shaking her head. “No. I don’t care that the Northside has some stupid penchant against Southsiders. I’m not ashamed of you. I could never be ashamed of you.” Her forehead rests against his. “You are so much more than a…a stereotype.”</p>
<p>“So are you.” He tilts her chin up, looking into her eyes. Her knees threaten to buckle at the affection she sees in his gaze. “You’re <i>everything</i>, Betty. You’re incredible.”</p>
<p>She laughs wetly, swiping at the tears that have begun to gather. There’s so much she wants to say to him, something warm filling her belly that feels a lot like love, but the words get caught in her throat. “<i>Jug</i>,” she manages, leaning forward to press a grateful kiss against his mouth. </p>
<p>They’re both smiling when he pulls away. “Alright, Juliet,” Jughead says, giving her one last peck before nodding toward the door. “Go on out there. I’ll sneak out after you.”</p>
<p>Betty pulls out her hair tie to redo her ponytail, gathering up her blonde locks and erasing any evidence of their bathroom tryst. Hopefully her lips aren’t too swollen from Jughead’s kisses. “Okay,” she says finally, smoothing out her uniform. “We’re still on for tonight, right? Be at my window at eleven.”</p>
<p>Jughead chuckles, his hair sticking up where she’d dug her fingers into it. “Such a rebel, Betty Cooper. Yes, I’ll be there.” He kisses her again. “See you at eleven, Betts.”</p>
<p>She grasps Jughead’s uniform to keep him in place for a beat before pulling away with a smile, and her heart flip-flops in her chest at his affectionate grin. Betty waves her fingers playfully and he watches as she reaches the end of the row of lockers and turns the corner, out of sight. </p>
<p>Veronica is still sitting at the bench where Betty had left her, scrolling through her phone. “Hey, sorry,” Betty says, slipping onto the seat next to her friend. “What did you want to ask me?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Veronica starts, holding up two lipstick tubes, “I wanted to see which of these you preferred, but now I have a better question.” Her eyes narrow mischievously, gaze darting over Betty’s shoulder. “Who is that Southside hunk that just slipped out of the girl’s bathroom not a minute after you did?”</p>
<p>Oh, <i>shit.</i></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This went three different directions before I was satisfied. Wow. Hopefully I can do the rest of the bingo squares more efficiently. :)</p>
<p>I’ll be adding all of my prompt fills for this challenge into this collection, so be on the lookout for more short little Bughead bites from me! </p>
<p>Also, I recently joined tumblr, so if you have an account, come hang out with me <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here</a>. Love you all! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. pancakes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Pancakes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Jughead! Why is our daughter covered in flour?”</p>
<p>Jughead glances up at his wife, a sheepish grin slipping onto his lips. He holds up a whisk, batter slowly dripping into the bowl. “I promised to help Juliet surprise you with pancakes, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”</p>
<p>Juliet squeals at the sight of her mother, rushing over to grasp at Betty’s leg. Betty reaches for her daughter, ruffling her dark curls and sending impressive amounts of flour flying. “You having fun, bug?” She grins affectionately at Juliet’s animated head-bobbing, scooping her daughter up into her arms and moving further into the kitchen to give her husband a proper greeting.</p>
<p>“Morning, Betts,” Jughead murmurs against her lips. “Happy birthday.” She brushes a streak of flour off his cheek, wondering with amusement how in the world it got there. Jughead nods toward the other end of the countertop. “Julie and I made you a cup of coffee. Half-and-half and cinnamon, just the way you like it.”</p>
<p>Betty smiles gratefully, warmth blossoming behind her sternum. “Thank you,” she replies, hand lingering on the side of Jughead’s face for a beat before she sets Juliet on the counter and moves around her husband to grab the steaming cup of coffee. Normally, Betty is the first one up, so she’s the one who usually makes breakfast and coffee, but last night Jughead had convinced her to sleep in so he could properly treat her to breakfast in bed for her birthday. (It’s a tradition that’s terribly domestic and she absolutely loves it.) Juliet’s squeals from the kitchen had drawn her out of their bedroom, however, and Betty’s glad she’d gotten up. She wouldn’t want to miss this sight for anything. </p>
<p>Jughead holds the bowl of pancake batter steady as Juliet eagerly twirls the whisk, sending a glob of batter flying toward her father’s shirt. Betty bites her lip to hold back her laughter as Jughead gasps dramatically, sending their daughter into hysterics. “C’mon, Julie, focus on mixing,” he reminds her through a burst of laughter, wiping at his shirt. His gaze finds Betty’s and his smile is more beautiful than the sunrise. </p>
<p>“Sit down, Mommy,” Juliet demands once Jughead has taken over the reins of mixing. She squirms on the counter and Jughead, recognizing the gesture, pauses long enough to set her down on the floor. A pair of little hands latch onto Betty’s arm and Juliet drags her excitedly to the table. “Sit down. Me and Daddy are gonna bring you pancakes.”</p>
<p>True to her word, Juliet rushes into the dining room with a marvelous plate of pancakes a few minutes later, bouncing excitedly. “Woah. Slow down, bug,” Betty calls amusedly, taking the plate from her daughter’s hands before it ends up on the floor. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”</p>
<p>“Wait!” Juliet spins around, grabbing the syrup cup her father offers her. “Syrup. Heated up.”</p>
<p>“Wow.” Betty places the syrup on the table before pulling Juliet into her arms, dropping a few kisses on the top of her head. Juliet scrunches her nose, squirming in delight. “This is amazing! I’m so proud of you for helping your dad out.”</p>
<p>“She’s a good sous-chef,” Jughead agrees, fingers brushing Betty’s shoulder in an oft-used gesture. She can hardly believe there was ever a time when he <i>wasn’t</i> constantly touching her in one way or another. Now, nearly fifteen years after their first kiss, it’s hard to imagine a life without Jughead’s hand in hers, on her shoulder, around her waist—a silent reminder of his love. </p>
<p>For the next twenty minutes, Juliet entertains her parents with a wild story about a talking crocodile and a bookstore, her mouth full of syrup and pancakes. She wolfs down a lot more food than Betty would have ever thought a four-year-old was capable of ingesting—she's Jughead’s daughter, for sure—and then slips out of her chair to wrap her arms around her mother’s legs once more. “Happy birthday, Mommy,” she offers dutifully and immediately disappears into her bedroom, leaving sticky handprints on Betty’s pant leg and a fond smile on her lips. </p>
<p>“The stuffed animals are calling, I suppose,” Jughead offers, lips curling in amusement. He stacks Betty’s empty plate on top of his and Juliet’s. “The day is yours, my love,” he continues, sweeping an arm through the air rather dramatically. Betty giggles like she’s a teenager all over again, falling in love with him more and more every day. That much hasn’t changed. “How would you like to spend it?”</p>
<p>“With you,” she answers simply. “You and Juliet. Those are my only requirements.”</p>
<p>In years past, she’s allowed Veronica to set up extravagant spa dates and the like, and Jughead has come up with elaborate plans for the two of them on numerous occasions. But this year feels different. This year, Betty wants nothing more than to be holed up in her house with her two favorite people in the world, playing with Barbies and toy kitchen sets and watching those nature documentaries Juliet likes so much. (Betty thinks she’s learned more about wild animals in the past few years than in all of her time in school.) She wants a lazy day with her husband and daughter; it’s her day, after all. Today, she gets to decide. </p>
<p>And so she does. They stay home and they have fun their way. Juliet’s boundless energy keeps them playing with stuffed animals and doing twenty piece puzzles and baking cupcakes for hours. They’re thirty minutes into a documentary about seals when Juliet’s head slumps against Betty’s arm, finally worn out from the excitement of the day. Betty carefully tucks her daughter into her arms and carries her to her bedroom, where she’s promptly tucked in. There’s no bedtime story tonight, but she doesn’t need one. She had enough of an adventure today. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Betty whispers into the dark once she and Jughead have crawled into bed. “For the pancakes, and for everything else.” The coffee, the cupcakes, the cruise to Hawaii that Juliet’s stuffed animals took. The daughter that’s part him and part her, the life that they’ve made together. The best birthday she’s had in a long time. </p>
<p>“I’m glad you liked the pancakes,” he teases, but in it she hears <i>you’re welcome; I love you.</i> And so she says it back, the words dancing along the crook of his neck where her head lies. His lips brush her forehead in reply. </p>
<p>She drifts off, and when she dreams, it’s about dinosaur puzzles and pancakes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here’s a bucketload of fluff that will hopefully lift all of our spirits as we navigate the uncertainty of our world right now as well as the...interesting developments Riverdale is throwing our way. I’m still not entirely sure why the writers have decided to do a disservice to our beloved characters by ignoring four seasons worth of character development and force-feeding us a plot line that makes less sense than Riverdale normally does, but I’ve had enough negative thoughts about the writers’ decisions. I’m giving you some lovey-dovey, married Bughead and their daughter to make up for it. :)</p>
<p>And remember, these characters are yours. You can write whatever the heck you want to about these crazy kids. You can ignore everything you don’t like about canon and you can make these characters your own. This is starting to become incredibly sappy, but I mean every word—these characters are whatever your imagination says they are. Please keep them alive. Don’t be discouraged by schemes to keep ratings up and people watching. Keep reading and writing about Betty and Jughead and their friends, and stay active in the fandom because we need every single one of you. </p>
<p>I’ll be posting a lot more frequently for the next few months with square fills from the Riverdale Bingo challenge. Stay tuned for more Bughead coming your way. </p>
<p>As always, find me on tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here!</a></p>
<p>Love you all! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. serendipity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Bed sharing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>They’re here somewhere</i>, she thinks. <i>They must be.</i></p><p>Lipstick, her wallet, her phone, a few pens. A tiny copy of Toni Morrison’s <i>The Bluest Eye</i> that she’s carried in her purse since high school. </p><p>But no keys.</p><p>Betty’s panicking now. How could she have lost her keys? They’re almost always in her purse and when she takes them out, she always, <i>always</i> puts them back. How could she have forgotten? She swears she didn’t. Maybe she lost them, an even more concerning possibility. Either way, she’s locked out of her apartment for the night.</p><p>She pulls out her phone, opening her text thread with Veronica. <i>Can’t find my keys</i>, she writes, hands shaking. <i>I’m locked out. Is there any chance you’ve decided to come home early?</i></p><p><i>No, sorry</i>, comes the reply. <i>I’m still at Archie’s and won’t be back until tomorrow. I’m so sorry, B.</i></p><p>Betty slumps against the wall, shutting her eyes against her frustration. <i>I’ll figure it out</i>, she types after a minute. <i>Sorry for bothering you. Hope you’re having a good time.</i></p><p>Her phone rings in response. “Oh, B,” Veronica sighs when Betty picks up. “Do you need me to drive up there and unlock the door for you? It would be inconvenient, for sure, but I can’t just let you wait outside our apartment all night.”</p><p>“I couldn’t possibly ask you to drive all the way here from New Jersey and back.” Betty laughs humorlessly, pressing her unoccupied hand flat against her thigh to ensure her nails don’t find the little divots in her palms. “I’ll just go over to Jughead’s. I can stay there.”</p><p>Veronica hums approvingly. “I was just about to suggest that.” There’s a hint of mischief in her voice when she adds, “I’m sure he’d jump at the opportunity to have you over for the night. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up sharing a bed.”</p><p>“Yeah, right.” Betty rolls her eyes, knowing that Veronica can hear it in her voice. “Reggie’s out most nights, so there are two beds. Plus a couch.”</p><p>“You never know,” is Veronica’s reply, voice teasing and much too hopeful. “It’s about time it happened, anyway.”</p><p>Betty chooses to ignore that last comment, a flush crawling up her neck involuntarily. Veronica has been insisting for years that Jughead is halfway in love with Betty, but he’s failed to do anything about it, and Betty never took the theory very seriously in the first place. She has no idea what Veronica knows that she doesn’t, but he’s never shown any romantic interest in, well, anyone. He’s much more genuine with her than most people, for sure, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his feelings for her are anything more than platonic. He’s given her no reason to get her hopes up. </p><p>That’s the other thing: Betty thinks <i>she</i> might be a little bit in love with <i>him</i>.</p><p>But Veronica doesn’t know that. At least, Betty <i>thinks</i> she doesn’t.</p><p>“Bye, V,” she says pointedly, cheeks still aflame.</p><p>“Goodbye, Bettykins,” Veronica replies, as per usual. “Let me know if Jug’s busy and you can’t stay over there. Though I know that even if he was, which is doubtful, he’d drop everything for you.”</p><p>Betty doesn’t even have time to form a response before Veronica hangs up. She groans, knowing that there’s a satisfied smirk playing on Veronica’s lips right about now.</p><p>Pocketing her phone, Betty zips her purse back up and heads back down to the lobby of their apartment building. She’s already halfway to Jughead’s apartment in an Uber before it occurs to her that she probably shouldn’t just arrive on his doorstep unannounced at nine o’clock in the evening. She reasons that it’d probably be weirder if he told her he was busy but she showed up anyway. Regardless, she knows he’d never turn her away.</p><p>Betty thanks the driver once they arrive, stepping out into the crisp autumn air. The apartment building is old and has certainly seen better days, but it’s homely in a sense and has never seemed more welcoming. </p><p>Jughead, predictably, is shocked when he opens his apartment door to find her standing there. “Betts,” he starts, surprise molding into something more playful, “what a pleasant surprise.”</p><p>She sighs, wrapping her arms around herself a little self-consciously. “I know, it’s late. But…I can’t find my keys and Veronica’s in New Jersey visiting Archie. I need somewhere to stay.”</p><p>He doesn’t hesitate in inviting her in. “There’s plenty to eat if you’re hungry. I can also cue up a movie. Anything you want.”</p><p>“I don’t…you don’t have to do all this. I’m sure you have better things to do.” She picks at the hem of her sweater, embarrassed. “I’ll just crash on the couch for the night and as soon as Veronica comes back, I’ll be out of your hair.”</p><p>“Betty.” He takes a step toward her, and there’s a beat of hesitation before he reaches for her hand, threading their fingers together. It’s a gesture he’s been making since their sophomore year of high school, when she told him about her scars. “You do know who you’re talking to, right? I’m not busy.” He gestures to his pajama-clad form. “And besides, there’s literally nothing I would rather do than hang out with you.”</p><p>She bites her lip at his admission, a smile threatening to overtake her features. “Thank you,” she says, almost a whisper, and her heart flutters at the soft way he’s looking at her. “A movie sounds great.”</p><p>He grins, that crooked, boyish grin that she loves so much. It’s a rare sight, which makes it all the more blush-inducing. “I’ll get the popcorn.”</p><p>“Try not to eat it all on the way to the living room,” she calls over her shoulder, and giggles at his scoff.</p><p>She scrolls through their movie options for a few minutes, finally settling on <i>Titanic</i> as Jughead comes back with the popcorn. He raises an eyebrow dubiously but to Betty’s surprise, he plops down next to her on the couch without a word.</p><p>“It was one of my favorites as a teenager,” she explains, even though she knows he’s well aware of this—she made him and Archie sit through one too many viewings during her young Leo phase in middle school. “I just want to watch something and not have to think too hard.”</p><p>“Okay,” he says simply, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth and propping his feet up on the coffee table. She’s surprised he didn’t protest, frankly—he’s kind of a snob about his movie choices. A very lovable snob, but a snob nonetheless. </p><p>“Are you going soft on me, Jones?” she teases, and he smirks at her. He’s so close she’d be able to reach out and trace the gentle bow of his lips if she wanted to. She wants to.</p><p>His eyes flicker down to her mouth so fast she’s sure she imagined it. He’s not smiling anymore. Rather, his lips are parted slightly as he searches her face—for what, she’s not sure—and Betty’s heart is hiccuping in her chest. </p><p>She looks away first.</p><p>“Want me to hit play?” she asks, for something to say. Something to break the silence, the bubble they were just caught in. She’s not sure what it meant.</p><p>“Sure,” is his reply. He quickly stuffs more popcorn into his mouth, as if to keep himself from saying more.</p><p>She presses play.</p><p>-</p><p>She blinks against the hazy light, arm bumping against something warm and solid when she stretches. Her head lifts slightly, and all she can see is an expanse of tanned skin.</p><p>Betty starts, nose knocking into Jughead’s jaw as she scrambles away. “I’m so sorry,” she gasps, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. The ending credits of <i>Titanic</i> are scrolling across the screen. “I didn’t mean to…”</p><p>He stares back at her for a beat before recovering, shaking his head slightly. “It’s okay, Betts. Really. You were tired.” His lips twist, and the smile is almost rueful.</p><p>“Were you really going to let me sleep on you all night?” she wonders aloud, flushing at the insinuation. Really, she was just leaning against him, her head on his shoulder, but they were close. Very close. And he didn’t move her. </p><p>But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s rested her head on his shoulder before, totally platonically, and he’s let her rest there. They’ve been just friends for fifteen years—what makes her think anything is going to be different now?</p><p>Betty ducks her head, cheeks burning in embarrassment and mortification. <i>Stupid, stupid, stupid.</i></p><p>“You were tired,” he reiterates, and it takes her a second to remember what she’d asked. “I wasn’t gonna move you.”</p><p>She’s avoiding his gaze now. “Thanks.” Her voice sounds stiff, almost cold, and she curses herself for being like this with him. For letting her feelings ruin everything. She stands abruptly. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.”</p><p>“Okay,” Jughead says carefully, and she doesn’t want to walk on eggshells around her best friend but she’s <i>exhausted</i> and she just wants to forget this ever happened. “Reggie’s using his room, so…you can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”</p><p>She turns around, eyes finding his. “No, no, I couldn’t.” <i>Share the bed</i>, a voice whispers, one that sounds an awful lot like Veronica. Her gaze drops to the ground. “I can sleep on the couch.”</p><p>Jughead grimaces. “It’s really not very comfortable,” he starts, still sitting. His finger traces indiscernible patterns in the worn fabric of the couch. “It’s also short. Trust me, you wouldn’t sleep well.”</p><p>Betty cocks an eyebrow. “And <i>you’re</i> going to sleep on it?”</p><p>Now he’s the one avoiding her gaze. “Unless you want to share my bed.”</p><p>“That’s…” She forces herself to meet his eye. “That’s fine. That-that works.”</p><p>He nods, almost absentmindedly, and his smile is a little tired on the edges. “I’ll get you some pajamas. There should be an unopened toothbrush somewhere in the bathroom.”</p><p>There’s a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old T-shirt waiting for her in a neat pile on his bed when she’s done brushing her teeth. Jughead moves past her, closing the bathroom door, and she slips into the clothes as quickly as she can, trying to ignore the little thrill that goes down her spine. The clothes smell of laundry detergent, but there’s the faintest bit of Jughead too.</p><p>She shuts off the lights, crawls into his bed, and waits for Jughead to return.</p><p>Betty’s on her side, facing the wall, but she feels the bed dip as Jughead joins her. She’s not sure how far away he is. She’s not sure how far away she wants him to be. </p><p>“I used to think it was stupid,” he whispers after a few beats of silence, voice on the precipice of sleep. “I used to think it was stupid that Jack couldn’t also fit on that piece of wood, that it was so cliché that he’d just die for her like that.”</p><p>She turns, and she can only see the faint outline of his body in the dark. He’s close enough that if she were to extend her fingers, they’d touch his waist. “I still think it’s cliché,” he’s saying, “but I also get it. I get what it feels like to…to care about someone so much that you feel like their life is more important than your own. To value them above all else.”</p><p>Betty smiles in the dark, a tired, fleeting smile. “Jellybean?” she murmurs, thinking of the sister Jughead adores more than anything. </p><p>There’s a long pause. When he exhales, it’s shaky, but his voice sounds sure when he replies, “You.”</p><p>She’s silent for too long. “It’s dramatic, I know,” he says in a rush, trying to backtrack. “I just mean that…”</p><p>“Jug.” The word is an exhale. She scoots closer, fingers brushing his arm. “I know.”</p><p>“Betty,” he says, a bit gravelly. His eyes are dark, deep, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the lack of light or…or something else. Her heart thuds in her chest. “I want…”</p><p>She knows. It’s written all over his face, and she’s never been happier or more afraid. “I know,” she repeats, slower this time. “Me too.”</p><p>She’s not sure who moves first, but within a beat, his hands are cradling her face and his lips are on hers. </p><p>It’s an unhurried kiss, slow and languid as they relax into the feeling. His touch is light at first, uncertain, but less so when his hand finds the dip in her waist, pulling her flush against him. She whimpers into his mouth, a small, approving sound, and she can feel his heartbeat stutter against her chest. </p><p>One of her hands slides through his hair, fingers tangling in the thick, dark strands, while the other curls around his back, palm pressing flat. His thumb slips under the hem of her (his) shirt. “<i>Jug</i>,” she sighs, head swimming with him, him, <i>him</i>.</p><p>“<i>Betty</i>.” It sounds like a vow, a promise. His knuckles graze her hip, dancing along her leg where it’s hooked around his. Their lips brush once, twice, and she smiles. </p><p>A comfortable silence settles over them, bodies intertwined and heartbeats in sync. When her eyes flutter open, she finds he’s already looking at her. His lips quirk as her lips form around his name again. “I know,” he teases in reply, echoing her earlier sentiment. </p><p>She laughs breathlessly, heart thumping against her ribs. <i>He knows</i>.</p><p>She does too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one was so fun to write. There were so many possibilities bouncing around in my head and it was really hard to pick, so I hope you guys are satisfied with the way it turned out. Hopefully I did the bed sharing trope justice. :)</p><p>I can’t post this without mentioning that it was inspired by one of my absolute favorite works by @singsongsung. Not sure what I love so much about it, but it makes me all warm and mushy inside every time I read it and it really encouraged me to write my own version of college Bughead finally acting on their feelings. You can find it <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/12682833">here.</a></p><p>As always, find me on tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here!</a></p><p>Until next time! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. sandwich</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Bughead.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Betty blinks against the morning light, nose bumping Jughead’s jaw as she burrows deeper into his embrace to avoid the sudden brightness. He stirs against her, making a displeased noise against her hair as he wakes.</p>
<p>“Up and at ‘em!” Alice calls cheerfully, pushing the curtains to the side and flooding the room with more sunlight. “Breakfast is ready.”</p>
<p>Betty groans in exasperation, squinting in the direction of her mother. “Mom,” Betty manages, voice scratchy with sleep, “that was uncalled for.”</p>
<p>Two little warm bodies are squirming against Betty now, and she glances down at her niece and nephew, who had crawled into bed with Betty and Jughead the night before. They’re both grumbling at being awoken so suddenly, burying their faces in the mattress to hide from the light. Betty can’t blame them, honestly. “We’ll be there in a second, Mom,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut. </p>
<p>“Betty.” She can practically feel Alice’s withering look. “Did you hear me? I said breakfast is ready. It’s getting cold.”</p>
<p>Jughead sighs against her temple at the mention of food, obviously torn. But he stirs after a beat, pushing Dagwood’s curls off his forehead in an affectionate gesture. “C’mon, you two.” He pulls his arm out from underneath Betty to prop himself up on one elbow and she whines at the loss of body heat. “You <i>three</i>,” he adds teasingly, as Betty is usually the one who tries to convince <i>him</i> to get out of bed. “Uncle Jug is hungry.”</p>
<p>Betty sighs, rubbing at her bleary eyes. “How about a Juniper and Dagwood sandwich?” She rolls her niece gently to the spot between her and Jughead, tucking Juniper next to her brother and grabbing Jughead’s bicep to pull him closer.</p>
<p>“Mmm, my favorite,” Jughead agrees, grinning now. Squished between their aunt and uncle, the twins squirm and giggle, now wide awake. Jughead gathers them up against his chest, nose burrowed in their red curls as they shriek with laughter. “I’m gonna eat you all up.”</p>
<p>“Help us, Auntie Betty,” Juniper gasps, grasping for Betty’s arm. “Uncle Jug is hungry and he’s gonna eat us!”</p>
<p>“Oh no!” Betty’s hands fly to her mouth to hide her grin. She scoops the twins up and rolls them over her, her back to Jughead as she tucks her niece and nephew into her arms. “I’ll protect you.”</p>
<p>A familiar pair of hands wrap around her waist, tugging her backward. “Ah <i>ha</i>! I got her!” Jughead calls, laughing wickedly. Juniper and Dagwood screech in faux-terror at the loss of their aunt. She and Jughead are a tangle of limbs as she pretends to wrestle out of his grasp. “I’ve captured Auntie Betty and she looks <i>delicious</i>.”</p>
<p>Betty can feel his smirk against her skin. “Help me!” she calls to Juniper and Dagwood, but they offer no assistance, doubling over in giggles as Jughead pretends to take an exaggerated bite out of Betty’s neck. </p>
<p>Deciding that it’s time she has the (fake) upper-hand, Betty rolls them over so that her weight is against Jughead. She traps his hands by his sides. “Run! I’ll hold him down!” Juniper and Dagwood trip over each other in a race out of the room, their footsteps pounding down the hallway. </p>
<p>She grins after them, shaking her head in amusement as she releases Jughead’s wrists and swings her leg back over his body so that she’s kneeling next to him. He’s laughing too, and she can feel the reverberations where she’s pressed against him. “Wow. Are they <i>that</i> scared I’m going to eat them?” he jokes.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Alice speaks up, and Betty blinks, shocked. She’d completely forgotten about her mother’s presence. “You are known for your appetite, after all.”</p>
<p>Jughead scoffs. “I’m not a <i>cannibal</i>. I only eat food.” His lips curl wickedly. “And Betty.”</p>
<p>“<i>Jughead</i>,” she hisses, flushing. “My mom is <i>right there</i>.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on, Betty.” Alice rolls her eyes. “I know what you get up to. For heaven’s sake, I had to listen to you two fool around for over a year before you went off to college.” She runs her hands down her skirt, smoothing it out in an oft-used gesture. “Now come downstairs and eat. I will not allow you to miss Christmas Eve breakfast.”</p>
<p>Betty sighs but acquiesces, kicking her suitcase open with her foot and crouching down to pick out an outfit. The door shuts behind Alice, and Jughead groans loudly before Betty hears the bed shift and he’s next to her, rummaging through his own suitcase. “Christmas Eve breakfast is not a thing,” he comments dryly, pulling his T-shirt over his head and replacing it with an identical, clean one. “I swear Alice made it up.”</p>
<p>Betty clicks her tongue. “It is in the Cooper household. I’ve been participating in it for years.”</p>
<p>“I’m not usually one to complain about a nice big feast,” he continues, sliding a pair of black jeans up his long legs, “but I was really comfortable snuggled up with you and the twins.”</p>
<p>She bites her lip, mouth curling upward in an affectionate smile. “I know. Me too.” Betty wiggles a red A-line dress over her head, one she bought specifically for their trip back to Riverdale for the holidays, and turns her back to Jughead. “Zip me up, please.”</p>
<p>He presses a kiss into the back of her neck when he’s done, fingers still resting against the zipper, and then he twirls her back around. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, lips finding hers briefly, before nodding toward the door. “Let’s go. I’m hungry for real this time.”</p>
<p>“Poor thing,” she says, lip jutted out as she pats his stomach. “You ready for a crapload of pancakes?”</p>
<p>“Hell yeah.” His hand finds hers, tugging her out into the hallway excitedly. “The real question is, is the crapload of pancakes ready for <i>me</i>?”</p>
<p>“Probably not,” Betty admits, squeezing his hand. He grins down at her, and warmth bubbles up behind her sternum. </p>
<p>“Christmas Eve breakfast, here I come,” Jughead calls, and Betty giggles as they scramble down the staircase, hand in hand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Grammarly told me that the mood of this story was disapproving, sad, and anxious, but I hope you all read it as fluffy. As intended. I don't know what I did wrong lol.</p>
<p>This idea came to me very randomly a few months ago, but I didn't get it all out on paper (on a computer, actually) until yesterday. I wrestled with the idea of including Polly, but in the end I decided to keep it as canon as possible (ignoring 4x17, obviously). I like to think that Alice and FP took in the twins after the kids all left for college, because Cheryl and Toni are definitely not taking Juniper and Dagwood with them and Nana Rose is not a suitable caregiver (sorry, Nana). Also, Jughead is definitely the twins' honorary uncle and they ADORE him. I dare you to change my mind. :)</p>
<p>As always, stop by my Tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here</a> if you want to chat! Until next time &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. beloved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Size difference.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her fingertips brush the edge of the shelf, inches from the spine of the book. She’s on her tiptoes, straining against the bookshelf, almost…there…</p>
<p>Betty groans inwardly, heels hitting the ground as she glares up at the top shelf. She’s not short, by any means, but the shelves at this particular branch of the New York Public Library are annoyingly tall. She has no idea how the staff expects people who aren’t at least six feet tall to reach all the way up there. </p>
<p>After spending an embarrassing amount of time willing the book to magically tip over and fall into her hands, Betty huffs, wondering how awkward it would be if she asked an employee to grab the book for her. Her gaze falls on a man at the end of the row, his fingers skimming the spines as he searches for a book. He peers up at the top row, easily pulling down a dark blue hardcover. </p>
<p>“Excuse me,” Betty pipes up before she can second-guess herself.</p>
<p>The man whips around, obviously startled by her voice. They’re in a library, after all—people don’t chat much here. “This is embarrassing, sorry,” Betty continues, hands curling and uncurling in a nervous gesture. “But there’s a book I need up on the top shelf and I really can’t reach it. Do you think…you could get it for me?”</p>
<p>Her heart thumps once, twice, three times before the man blinks, shaking himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Yeah. Sure.” He follows her back to the far end of the bookshelf, and she points up at the book she’d been trying to pull down. He grabs it and hands it to her, mouth curved into the slightest of smiles. “Toni Morrison?”</p>
<p>Betty blushes, momentarily distracted by the warmth in his blue eyes. “She’s my favorite author,” she explains, fingers absentmindedly running across the cover of the book. “I own several of her novels, but I haven’t read this one yet.” She traces the title, following the intricate loops of the S.</p>
<p>“I’ve heard good things about her writing,” he says, watching her thoughtfully. “Which book should I read first?”</p>
<p>“Well, my personal favorite is <i>Beloved</i>,” Betty starts, and it occurs to her that she might be flirting just a bit. That <i>he</i> might be flirting. “But <i>The Bluest Eye</i>, her debut novel, is also excellent. Very powerful.”</p>
<p>His mouth curls again, almost shyly, and Betty’s fingers itch to trace the gentle Cupid’s bow of his lips. “Thank you for the recommendations,” he says finally. “It couldn’t hurt to try something new.” His gaze strays to the bookshelf he had been exploring before. “That’s what I’m planning to do for Thanksgiving this weekend, actually. My little sister swore she didn’t mind Thai takeout, but I wanted to try something different this year.” </p>
<p>He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s not sure why he’s even telling her this, but Betty smiles brightly to alleviate his self-consciousness. “Oh, I love to cook! I could point out some great recipes for you to try.”</p>
<p>“That would be great.” His eyes are dancing with amusement and gratitude, and Betty’s finding it hard to look away. “Thank you, um…”</p>
<p>“Betty,” she supplies, holding a hand out politely. He takes it. </p>
<p>“Jughead,” is his response. Her eyebrows lift in surprise, and he rolls his eyes. “I know.”</p>
<p>“No, no, I…I like it,” she promises, a smile sneaking onto her face. Her cheeks are flaming, but she has a hunch it’s less from embarrassment and more from the way he watches her lips form around his name. “Jughead,” she murmurs, liking the way it rolls off her tongue.</p>
<p>“Betty,” Jughead replies teasingly, chuckling at the playful eye roll she throws his way. </p>
<p>“So, you were looking at cookbooks?” she asks after a beat, glancing down at the book in his hands.</p>
<p>Jughead nods. “I’m kind of hopeless at cooking, so you might need to help me out.” His eyes widen before Betty can even process what he’d accidentally insinuated. “I didn’t mean…I’m not trying to bring you home or anything. I…” He laughs humorlessly, fiddling with the dark curl that peeks out from under his beanie in what’s obviously a nervous tic. “I just meant you’ll have to direct me to the simpler recipes. I’m hopeless at socializing, too, it seems. I’m definitely much more eloquent when it’s just me and Google Docs.”</p>
<p>She giggles. “I’ll take your word for it. And really, it’s okay. I got what you meant.” Betty pulls a cookbook off the shelf, flipping through it for a few beats before cocking her head thoughtfully. “Did you come here just to find a recipe? You could have Googled one, to save yourself some trouble.”</p>
<p>Jughead shrugs. “I was already planning to stop by the library.” He looks almost sheepish. “I don’t know, I was thinking I’d go all out. A real cookbook, a real Thanksgiving meal.”</p>
<p>“Your sister’s gonna love it,” Betty replies, noting how her chest swirls with affection for this man’s dedication to his sister. “It’s really sweet of you, to do this for her.”</p>
<p>He shrugs off her compliment, cheeks flushed like he doesn’t know how to receive one. “It’s not a big deal. And besides, it’s time I learn how to be a proper adult anyway.”</p>
<p>Betty smiles, tongue poking at her teeth. “Better late than never.” Her gaze flickers to the shelves of cookbooks, before falling back on him. “I have some really good recipes I could email you, if you’d be interested.”</p>
<p>Jughead exhales gratefully. “Yeah. Yeah, thank you, again. I really, really appreciate it.”</p>
<p>She pulls out her phone then, willing her heart to stop thumping so vigorously when Jughead types his email into a new contact. “Here’s my number too, in case…y’know, you want to communicate like true members of Gen Z.”</p>
<p>Betty cocks an eyebrow. “Subtle,” she comments in a moment of confidence, cracking a smile when he casts his gaze to the side in embarrassment. She tucks her phone back into her pocket and clasps her hands together. “I’ve got some amazing recipes in mind already—turkey, of course, and mashed potatoes. Tons of different kinds of pies, too.”</p>
<p>“Oh God,” Jughead groans, grinning widely, and she giggles at his enthusiasm. “That sounds heavenly.”</p>
<p>“Good,” she replies. “And please send me pictures when you’re done making it. I’d love to see how it turns out.”</p>
<p>And he does—she’s back in her hometown of Riverdale later that week when her phone chimes, and she smiles at the picture of Jughead and his sister standing behind a table piled with food. <i>Dinner was amazing</i>, reads the message below. <i>I screwed up on the green beans and one of the pies, naturally, but it was still better than anything I’ve ever eaten. Thank you.</i></p>
<p>Betty giggles to herself. <i>Well, maybe next time I’ll have to come over and show you how it’s done.</i></p>
<p><i>That’s a line if I ever heard one, Betts</i>, is his response. Her lips curl into an amused smile. <i>But I’ll allow it. Do you think Mama Cooper would put a hit on me if I stole her daughter away next Thanksgiving?</i></p>
<p>She’s hitting the call button before her brain even registers it. “Probably,” she says when Jughead picks up. “But it’d be worth it. I’d much rather rescue you from cooking-related disasters than stuff my face with turkey to avoid her incessant interrogation.”</p>
<p>“Ouch,” he replies, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Is it weird that we’re planning this three hundred and sixty-five days in advance?”</p>
<p>She shrugs, despite knowing he can’t see her. “Not if you don’t think it is.”</p>
<p>“Nah.” He’s silent for a beat, and she can picture the soft blush creeping up his neck as he continues, “But careful, if I fall in love with your cooking, you might never get rid of me.”</p>
<p>Betty tugs her lip between her teeth, warmth rushing through her. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I briefly considered taking the prompt in a less cliché direction than this, but...it's me, guys. You know I'm all about that fluffy, tropey nonsense. So here you have it: Betty being too short to reach a book, and Jug coming to her rescue. They also start talking about food, which is a bizarre twist if you think about it (it kind of just wrote itself) but this is Jughead Jones we're talking about, so I'm really not surprised.</p>
<p>Please let me know if any of you want to see fleshed out, full versions of any of these prompts. A couple of them have stood out to me, begging to be fully explored, but I'm going to have to finish all 25 of the bingo squares before I commit to continuing any of them. Still, the offer stands. Don't be afraid to comment!</p>
<p>As always, come visit my tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here</a> to chat or to discover more Bughead-related nonsense.</p>
<p>Much love &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Jones trailer</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her head is ringing with his declaration, so sweet and so, so perfect, but ice-cold fear runs through her veins as she stares at the green snake curling up his back. </p><p>Not five minutes ago had he told her he loved her, throwing his beanie on the couch in a moment of vulnerability and trust. Not five minutes ago had she said it back, heart and mind bursting as Jughead twirled her around with a gaze full of more unbridled affection than she’d ever thought possible. Not five minutes ago had he stood between her legs, his lips and hands trailing down her skin and leaving her aching in the best way. </p><p>But a knock at the door had popped the bubble, and now as Betty stands awkwardly in the trailer’s living room, clutching at her discarded shirt, she feels nothing but fear. </p><p>Not of Jughead. She could never fear him. He’s the boy she’s known all her life, the boy she loves. But she’s afraid <i>for</i> him, of what this leather jacket means. For him, for her, for them. </p><p>He tells her it doesn’t mean anything, that he can still take it back, but she knows it’s too late. The Serpents are a <i>gang</i>, a dangerous one, and by putting on the jacket, he’s on his way to becoming one of them. She’s so, so scared for him, scared to lose the one person who’s ever held all her broken pieces in his hands and still loved her. She’s scared that not only will joining the Serpents hurt him, but that it will <i>change</i> him. </p><p>(She’s heard the stories. As messed up as it is, the Southside is the source of a lot of cautionary tales told to Northside kids. Betty was raised on stories of gang violence, drug dealing, and the like. The message is clear: the Southside Serpents are dangerous. Betty doesn’t want Jughead to have any part of that. </p><p>Besides, wearing that leather jacket is like walking around with a target on his back, a target that Northsiders and Ghoulies alike will take advantage of. Riverdale is slipping into the darkness more and more each day, and if Betty can only protect one person from that darkness, it’s going to be him.) </p><p>She doesn’t want to hold him back. She knows how it feels to drown under the weight of overprotectiveness and too-high standards; she would never do that to him. But then she sees him laughing with the other young Serpents, so carefree and open in a way he’s only ever been like with her, and Betty hates the fear and jealousy that churns in her stomach. She’s so selfish, and she hates it. She doesn’t ever want to lose him and she cries herself to sleep thinking that every single day he’s with Toni or Sweet Pea or his new friends at Southside High, he drifts even farther from her. </p><p>She breaks up with him to protect him, and not a month later he does the same to her. <i>Until it sticks</i>, he says. He’s tired of her. He doesn’t want her, doesn’t need her, doesn’t love her. But try as she might, she still loves him, and she hates herself for letting him walk away. </p><p>They discover General Pickens’s head in the junkyard and it feels so good to be <i>them</i> again, to solve mysteries as a team. They’re so in sync in this way, but not in the ways that matter, and Betty’s heart is breaking all over again. (Not that it ever fully healed.)</p><p><i>Until it sticks</i>, he says, but it never does. </p><p>They’re back in the trailer, a single lamp casting a warm glow over the room. It’s getting late, and she really should have been home hours ago, but right now, Betty’s too preoccupied to care. </p><p>Her pretty pink dress is pooled around her waist, Jughead’s hands burning deliciously against the skin of her back, and all she can think is <i>yes</i>. Their mouths collide in a series of heady, passionate kisses, and it feels so, so right. It feels like coming home. </p><p>This is it, she thinks. This is the night. Sighing into his mouth, rocking instinctively against him, she wants it all. She wants him. And she tells him as such, gazing into those beautiful blue eyes and feeling it deep in her heart. He gazes back at her, stunned, like he can’t believe she could ever want this with him. But she does, more than anything, and so she breathes the words into his mouth. <i>I want you</i>, she gasps. <i>All of you.</i> </p><p>She wants his heart, his mind, his body, his soul. She wants his brilliant smiles and his bad moods, his light and his darkness. She wants all of him, and she loves all of him. </p><p>She loves him. </p><p>“Wait,” she murmurs (again), hands clutching at his half-unbuttoned dress shirt like a lifeline. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, hoping she’s not about to make a big mistake. “I…I love you.”</p><p>(Does he still love her? Is it too late? What if—)</p><p>“I love you,” he echoes, and his smile is so blindingly beautiful that Betty almost cries. He buries his face in her neck, nose dragging along her jaw. “God, Betts, I love you.”</p><p>She laughs giddily, head thrown back as Jughead murmurs his love into her skin. His hands slide under her thighs all of a sudden and then he’s lifting her, grinning against her chest. Legs around his hips and hands in his hair, Betty can’t stop smiling as they tumble into the trailer’s only bedroom. They undress each other slowly, gently, whispering declarations of love into each other’s skin, and finally, <i>finally</i>, they are one. </p><p>They descend into free fall together, foreheads pressed together and bodies intertwined. It’s not perfect—there’s some fumbling, some nervous giggling—but it’s so much better than she could have ever imagined, big and beautiful and all-consuming. It’s a tidal wave that she’d gladly drown in, a firework display more magnificent than any she’s ever witnessed. And when it’s over, when she opens her eyes, Jughead is right there with her, arms wrapped around her tightly and lips curled into a dreamy half-smile. </p><p>“That good, huh,” she teases, giggling as he ducks down to attack her neck in retaliation. She can feel his smirk against her skin. </p><p>“So good,” Jughead agrees, fingers dancing up her sides playfully. Betty squeals, squirming delightedly under his touch, and he chuckles into her neck. He’s smiling unabashedly when he lifts his head again, and she loves him for it. </p><p>It’s almost midnight, and Alice is probably one second away from organizing a search party for her youngest daughter, but Betty wants nothing more than to stay here. They’re both on their side now, Jughead’s head tucked under her chin, and it feels like heaven. It feels like home.</p><p>“This is where I’m meant to be,” she whispers into the silence. “This is my home.”</p><p>Jughead looks up then, first at her and then around at the bare walls of the trailer. “Here?” he asks slowly, doubt creeping into his voice.</p><p>“Here,” she corrects, placing her hand over his heart. “You.”</p><p>He presses his lips to her collarbone once, twice, and in the gesture, Betty hears <i>you’re my home too</i>. “I love you,” he says, like he’s making up for all the time they lost. “I love you so much.”</p><p>“I love you too,” she replies, smiling into his hair, and she’s never meant anything more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This takes place between 1x13 and 2x12 and is actually a snippet of a Bughead through the years-type thing I started writing this summer (and might finish at some point, we'll see). I'm kind of in love with this part, to be honest, and I thought it would make a good addition to the bingo challenge--I was trying out a more poetic style than I'm used to and I like the way it turned out. I hope you guys do too. :)</p><p>As always, find me on tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here</a>. If there's anything you'd like me to write, feel free to send me an ask! I'd love to know what you guys want to see from me. MWAH &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. ollie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Adopting a pet.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There it is again. </p>
<p>Betty looks up from her book for the third time in the past few minutes, eyes darting around the room as she tries to locate the source of the noise. Surely she isn’t imagining it at this point. It almost sounded like the wails of an animal—maybe a raccoon? But what would a raccoon be doing outside a fourth-floor apartment?</p>
<p>The <i>click clack</i> of Jughead’s fingers on his keyboard stops. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his gaze following hers to the balcony and then flickering back to her. </p>
<p>“There was a noise,” she explains distractedly, waiting for the animal to call out again. And it does, louder this time. “There. Did you hear that?”</p>
<p>Jughead frowns at the door to the balcony, curiosity in his gaze. “It sounded like an animal.” </p>
<p>“Exactly.” Betty slowly pulls herself off the couch where she’s tucked into Jughead’s side. “I’m gonna see what it is.”</p>
<p>Pushing his laptop off his lap, Jughead joins her, fingers brushing the small of her back in a familiar gesture. Betty slides the door open, eyes catching on a bundle of orange fur. </p>
<p>The cat stares back at her, jaws opening in a loud meow. </p>
<p>“Oh my god, Jug,” she gasps, crouching in front of the creature. It stands, back arched in a stretch, and bumps Betty’s knee. “What are you doing all the way up here, buddy?” she wonders aloud, leaning forward to glance down the fire escape. The cat must have climbed up from the street.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t have a collar,” Jughead notes as the cat curls around his legs. “Think we should take it to the vet and see if it has a chip?”</p>
<p>“Definitely,” Betty agrees, but she has a feeling it’s a stray. It looks the part—scrawny, fur a little matted and greasy. Even so, it’s absolutely adorable, and Betty bites her lip, knowing that if Jughead were to look her way, he’d see it all over her face.</p>
<p><i>It</i> being the fact that she wants to keep the cat. </p>
<p>She doesn’t dwell on it too often, but sometimes Betty gets home from classes and their apartment is just too empty. Even when Jughead is there—a familiar, comforting presence she would never trade for anything—there’s a twinge of loneliness that settles deep in her gut. She wants the companionship a pet provides, something warm and soft to curl at her feet as she writes papers or to lie in her lap as she lounges on the couch. She can picture it now: her body tucked against Jughead’s side, her head on his shoulder, and the small, cozy body of a cat between them. </p>
<p>Betty’s ready for the commitment of a pet, for sure, but she has no idea how Jughead would feel about it. She doesn’t really know how he feels about pets—after all, Hot Dog was sort of forced upon him as part of his initiation into the Serpents and wasn’t a long-lasting fixture in his life. Hot Dog was a handful, she knows, but cats are a lot more independent than dogs. Maybe she can convince Jughead to consider getting a cat. </p>
<p>They pull up to the nearest veterinary center fifteen minutes later, a lidless cardboard box in Betty’s arms and a pair of wide blue eyes peering up at her. She wiggles her fingers at the cat, which meows back at her.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you just the cutest thing,” Betty coos, grinning widely. She glances up at Jughead, whose lips twitch in amusement. (Score!)</p>
<p>There’s no chip, the vet tells them, so Betty’s hunch was correct—it’s a stray. <i>He</i>, actually. “You can take him home if you’d like,” the vet informs them, smiling politely. “I’d have to give him some shots, of course, and there’d be paperwork, but he’s all yours if you’re interested.”</p>
<p>It must be written all over Betty’s face, because Jughead sighs and pulls her aside. “Is this really a good idea? We’re broke college students, Betts. Pets are expensive, and a lot of work.”</p>
<p>“Cats are pretty low-maintenance,” she promises, arching an eyebrow pointedly—after all, she <i>is</i> the one who had a pet cat as a kid. “Think about it. We could come home after class and cuddle up on the couch with a little furry creature. It’d be really nice.” Betty can tell by the way his shoulders slump that he’s starting to give in, so she adds, “I’ve been thinking about bringing this up for a while, actually.”</p>
<p>Jughead’s lips quirk. “Of course. But you didn’t say anything until we had to make an impulsive decision.”</p>
<p>Betty rolls her eyes, smacking him playfully on the arm. “Is that a yes?”</p>
<p>He’s not wrong—it is a rather impulsive decision. Normally, Betty would listen to her brain and weigh the pros and cons of such a decision. But she doesn’t want to always psychoanalyze everything. This time, she’s listening to her heart. </p>
<p>Jughead’s silent for a beat, searching her face as he contemplates. Exhaling, he smiles, shaking his head like he can’t believe she managed to wear him down so fast. (But really, he’s never been immune to her persuasion.) “Okay,” he says finally. “Yes.”</p>
<p>She can’t help it—she squeals, bouncing on her heels. Kissing his amused grin, Betty pulls him back toward the vet and informs her happily, “We’ll take him.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“Told you,” she tells him later, legs intertwined with his on the couch and a purring ball of fur on her lap. “Told you this was a good decision.”</p>
<p>He smiles against her hair, fingers running through the now-silky fur of Ollie Cooper-Jones. “It was.”</p>
<p>Ollie meows in agreement.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one really fought me for some reason, but I'm relatively happy with how it turned out. (Really, I just needed to post it because I didn't like how unproductive I've been this week.) But I hope it's still enjoyable! I have a feeling Bughead and their little feline friend Ollie are going to have lots of fun together. &lt;3</p>
<p>As always, come <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">tumble</a> with me! (Is that still a thing people say? Idk.) Kisses to all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. invitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Ride share.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come <i>on</i>, Veronica. Seriously. We’re already thirty minutes late.”</p><p>Veronica Lodge clicks her tongue, glancing over her shoulder as she wraps a strand of dark hair around a curling iron. “<i>Fashionably</i> late, Bettykins. Arriving anywhere less than half an hour after the event started is a faux pas.”</p><p>“I hope you don’t apply that rule to job interviews,” Betty retorts, playing with the hem of her top. It’s a pretty pale lavender color, cropped and low-cut, and it’s completely outside her comfort zone, but Veronica had insisted she looked hot and Betty thinks she deserves to feel hot, at least for the night.</p><p>“Of course not,” comes Veronica’s reply. She sounds almost offended by the suggestion. “There are <i>some</i> exceptions to the fashionably late rule.”</p><p>“Ah, of course,” Betty says, shaking her head with amusement. She’d met Veronica, her roommate, only a few months ago, and she’s still learning the little quirks of her personality. Her sophistication, her flair for the dramatics, and her unwavering loyalty.</p><p>Several minutes of comfortable silence pass before Veronica unplugs the curling iron and turns to Betty, loose curls bouncing. “What do you think?”</p><p>“You look great,” Betty answers honestly, struck by how well Veronica pulls off the look. She’s yet to see her roommate attempt anything that <i>doesn’t</i> flatter her sleek black hair and abundant curves.</p><p>“So do you.” Veronica arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow like she’s daring Betty to argue with her. “I had to work for this look, but you, B, are blessed with natural waves.”</p><p>The corners of her lips twitch instinctively as she reaches up to tug at a lock of said hair. “Thanks. Let me know when you’re done so I can get an Uber.”</p><p>“You know better than to rush perfection, Betty Cooper,” Veronica scoffs, throwing a beauty blender in Betty’s direction, who ducks out of the way, giggling, and almost falls off her chair. </p><p>-</p><p>The lights of the city illuminate the darkening sky as the two girls glide through the streets in a silver Toyota, and Betty tugs at her mini skirt self-consciously. Veronica reaches for her hand to stop her fiddling. “You look super hot, seriously. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“I don’t mean to bother you girls,” their driver pipes up, an elderly man with a slight southern accent, “but there is a passenger requesting a ride to the same location as you. Would you mind if I stopped to pick him up? He can sit up front with me.”</p><p>The two girls exchange a surprised glance. “Sure!” Veronica replies, apparently excited at the prospect of meeting a fellow partygoer. “The more the merrier.”</p><p>Betty sends her an amused look before nodding into the rearview mirror, and the driver smiles gratefully before he taps a button on his phone and follows the directions down a side street. In a matter of minutes, the car pulls up in front of an apartment building much like the one she and Veronica live in. Betty cranes her neck to look out the window at the new passenger. </p><p>“Ooh, there are two of them!” Veronica comments, face almost pressed to the glass. She turns to Betty only to waggle her eyebrows, a gesture that receives a heavy eye roll in response.</p><p>But she’s right—the door at Veronica’s side opens and a head of red hair pops through. “Oh. Sorry, I should have specified there are two of us.”</p><p>Of course, Veronica is the first to reply. “No worries at all,” she says, eyeing the redheaded man like he’s on display at a candy store. “You can squeeze in here with us, and your friend can sit up front.”</p><p>He grins, climbing into the backseat once Veronica scoots over into the middle. “Awesome.”</p><p>Someone outside—the second man, Betty presumes—snorts unamusedly at the redhead’s eagerness, and her gaze shoots over to him as he ducks into the front seat. He’s turned away from her, so she can’t see his face, but she imagines he’s rolling his eyes. (Frankly, she is too, but only on the inside. Because of <i>course</i> Veronica’s already charmed some guy before they even get to the party.)</p><p>“You guys heading to Reggie’s party too?” the redhead asks, fully turning his body toward the girls. Veronica looks like she’s trying not to smile triumphantly.</p><p>“We are,” she says, instead schooling her face to display flirty politeness, if that’s a thing. (It’s the only way Betty can think to describe it.) “Do you know Reggie personally?”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” the man replies. “Jug and I grew up with him. We all went to grade school together.” He nods his head toward his friend in the front seat almost as a second thought, like he’d forgotten these two girls have never met this <i>Jug</i> in their life. </p><p>Veronica’s eyebrows shoot up, mirroring Betty’s thoughts exactly. “<i>Jug</i>?”</p><p>The man in the front seat turns around at that with a huff. “Jughead. It’s a childhood nickname, but it’s a much better option than the real thing, so…”</p><p>“I think it’s nice,” Veronica says, but Betty knows her well enough by now to detect the falseness in her smile. Jughead seems to notice it too, his eyes narrowing slightly—his frankly gorgeous blue-green eyes, Betty observes with a jolt. </p><p>(Truthfully, it <i>is</i> a strange name, but who is Betty to talk when she’s probably the only <i>Betty</i> under sixty alive today? And it’s her chosen name, like his.)</p><p>“I’m Archie,” the redhead offers after a beat, holding his hand out. His arm is sort of at an awkward angle, since they’re cramped in the car, but both Betty and Veronica shake his hand. </p><p>“Veronica,” the raven-haired girl says coquettishly, practically pressed up against Archie’s muscular body. He grins, already smitten. “And this gorgeous blonde right here is my bestie, Betty.”</p><p>She flushes slightly at Veronica’s complement, managing an embarrassed laugh. “That’s right. Betty Cooper.”</p><p>“Cool,” Archie says, and his grin is very boyish. He seems like one of those small-town, boy-next-door types, and it’s incredibly comforting. (Maybe not <i>all</i> college guys are douches.) “Do you guys go to NYU too? I haven’t seen you around.”</p><p>“Columbia, actually,” Veronica informs him. “Both of us.”</p><p>“Awesome! That’s where Jug goes!” He grins up at his friend in the front seat, who glances back with the slightest hint of an amused grin pulling at his lips. It distracts her for a beat, the soft bow of his upper lip. </p><p>Before Jughead can turn back around, Betty blurts out, “What’s your major?” to make conversation. She’s been mostly silent the whole trip, and it feels weird. Betty Cooper is not the type to stare out the window without a word. It’s in her blood to be polite, warm, friendly.</p><p>Surprise flashes in his eyes, like he didn’t expect her to give him the time of day when his handsome all-American friend is right there, but he quickly masks it. “Creative writing.”</p><p>“Really?” Betty gasps, and a smile lights up her face unbidden. “I’m in investigative journalism. Same ballpark, I guess.” Now that he mentions it, she thinks she might recognize him from one of her classes.</p><p>There’s that crooked smile again. “Investigative journalism, huh? A regular Nancy Drew, I bet.”</p><p>She laughs, a light, fluttery sound. “I try.”</p><p>Veronica catches her eye, arching an eyebrow knowingly, but mercifully keeps her lips shut. She turns back to the redhead, and Betty notices she’s seemingly inched closer to Archie, her hand resting on the redhead’s bicep. “What genre do you like best?” she asks Jughead, returning her attention to him. “I assume, if you’re majoring in creative writing, that you do a lot of reading as well.”</p><p>“Got me figured out already, Cooper?” Her stomach swoops at his teasing grin. (He remembered her last name!) “But yes, I read. I happen to be a fan of mysteries myself. Crime, murder, stuff like that.” He pauses. “But not in a psychopathic way. It’s a <i>healthy</i> interest, I promise.”</p><p>She giggles. “I believe you. Don’t worry, I love murder mysteries too. And you write them?”</p><p>“Yep.” She likes the way his eyes light up when he’s talking about his passion. She’s struck again by how pretty his eyes are. <i>He’s</i> pretty, in general. His hair, though mostly hidden by a gray crown-shaped beanie, curls softly over his forehead; he’s got three beauty marks on his jaw that she longs to trace; he’s—he’s still talking. “There was a murder in my hometown when I was fifteen,” Jughead’s saying, and her face flushes in embarrassment at being so distracted, “and I decided to write about it. Still working on that one.”</p><p>“That’s so cool, Juggie,” she gushes, smiling shyly at the sudden nickname, but he doesn’t seem to mind it. </p><p>“Oh, we’re here!” Veronica announces, leaning over Archie, who looks all too happy at her closeness, to peer out the window. Sure enough, they’ve pulled up in front of a dorm building that Betty remembers from last month, when she and Veronica had attended Reggie Mantle’s Halloween party.</p><p>Betty thanks the driver, feeling a little bit guilty that he had to deal with the borderline nauseating behavior of her friend and said friend’s flavor of the evening, and steps out into the crisp November air. Veronica and Archie are still practically wrapped around each other as they ascend the steps to the dorm building, and Jughead shakes his head in exasperation. “C’mon lovebirds, save it for the bedroom.”</p><p>Veronica fixes Jughead with a look that could very likely turn him to ash. “Like you and my Bettykins weren’t engaging in some serious bookworm foreplay back there.”</p><p>Face aflame, Betty risks a glance at Jughead, and her heart does a little flip when she catches the flush crawling up his neck. “Have fun,” he says finally as the pair disappears into the crowd, leaving Betty and Jughead loitering awkwardly in the entryway.</p><p>Jughead clears his throat, hands tucked into his jean pockets. “I don’t suppose you dislike parties as much as I do?”</p><p>“Probably not quite as much,” Betty replies truthfully, eyeing his clearly uncomfortable body language, “but if that was an invitation to hang out with you all night, I’d be inclined to accept.”</p><p>His lips twitch with amusement and something else, something almost affectionate. “Good.”</p><p>-</p><p>Her phone chimes as the party’s winding down, screen lighting up with Veronica’s name. <i>Heading back to our apartment with Archie, you might need to find somewhere else to stay for the night.</i> She has the decency to add, <i>Sorry B.</i></p><p>Rolling her eyes, she tilts the phone toward Jughead so he can read the screen. He snorts. “Figures.” Quieter, less confident, he adds, “Do you…you can come to my place if you want. I can sleep in Archie’s bed and you can have mine, or I can take the couch.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she says, willing her blush to keep to a minimum. “Really, it’s sweet of you. We only just met, and…”</p><p>Jughead waves it off. “Nah, it’s the least I could do. There’s no way in hell <i>I</i> would want to listen to them going at it all night. Believe me, I’ve been there.” He sticks his tongue out comically, scrunching his face, and Betty giggles despite the disturbing mental image his words conjure up.</p><p>“Knowing Veronica,” Betty admits, “this is probably 80% her wanting to hook up with Archie and 20% her attempting to get me alone with you.”</p><p>“Ah.” Their eyes lock for a beat, and there’s something in his gaze that makes the butterflies in her stomach go haywire. “Well, it worked.” He holds out his arm, mouth curling playfully. “Shall we?”</p><p>“Mmm hmm,” she murmurs, hand curling around his arm, and the grin that he gives her as they step out into the chilly nighttime air warms her from head to toe.</p><p>(It definitely worked.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow, this one also really got away from me. I was not expecting this to be practically 2,000 words, and I was also not expecting Varchie to take over the way they did. Hey, nothing against them, they're great, but I had to cut out a bunch of Varchie flirting because they were starting to overshadow Bughead. Oops. But the final product is a healthy dose of both, and I hope that tickles your fancy! :)</p><p>Also, happy break in between seasons (officially)! I actually haven't watched 4x19 at the time I'm writing this, but it's on my agenda for this afternoon. I've heard good things, so I'm excited. Let's go out on top, shall we, fellow Bughead fans?</p><p>As always (groan, I know. I get annoyed writing this every time lol), come check out my tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here</a>! I'd love to see you guys over there. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Accidental marriage.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It comes in the mail, tucked between her monthly water bill and a coupon book for her local QFC. She doesn’t notice it right away, tossing the mail on the counter to deal with after she showers for the day. After all, there’s no reason for her to suspect that there’s a marriage license bearing her name folded innocently into one of the envelopes. </p>
<p>But there is. And yet, Betty Cooper isn’t getting married. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p><i>New York County Marriage License</i>, it reads in a cursive font. Below is her name: <i>Elizabeth Anne Cooper</i>. </p>
<p>Heart in her throat, Betty reads on. Her supposed husband is someone named Forsythe, which is probably the most pretentious name she’s ever heard. </p>
<p>What the <i>hell</i>?</p>
<p>Betty decidedly does <i>not</i> remember getting married. To a <i>Forsythe</i>, no less, who could not possibly be younger than sixty. Is this a mistake? Some kind of cruel joke? The form looks pretty authentic, which can only mean one thing: there was a mix-up and she was accidentally mailed the marriage license of another Elizabeth Anne Cooper who lives in Manhattan.</p>
<p>Unlikely as it sounds, it’s the best explanation she can think of. Betty stares at the certificate for another few minutes before pulling her phone out of her back pocket and dialing the number she finds on the New York County website.</p>
<p>“This might sound totally crazy,” Betty begins after a woman picks up, “but I just got a marriage license in the mail with my name on it and I didn’t get married. I’m not getting married.” <i>I’m not even dating anyone</i>, she almost adds, but that’s both unnecessary and kind of depressing. “I’m just really confused as to how that happened.”</p>
<p>The woman on the other end is silent for a beat. “You received a marriage license in the mail with your name on it, but you didn’t apply for one?” </p>
<p>She sounds incredulous, and Betty doesn’t blame her. “Yes. Like I said, it’s completely crazy. I…could it belong to someone else with the same name? Maybe our addresses got mixed up.”</p>
<p>“That’s possible,” is the reply. “Could you tell me your name and address, please?”</p>
<p>“Elizabeth Anne Cooper.” She spells it slowly for clarification before relaying her address. “Is there another Elizabeth Anne Cooper in Manhattan? It just seems so unlikely.”</p>
<p>She can hear the faint tapping of the woman’s fingers on a keyboard. “No, there isn’t. Just you.” Silence. “That’s very strange. Perhaps you…applied for a marriage license and just don’t remember?”</p>
<p>Betty can tell what the woman is insinuating by the careful tone of her voice. “No, no. I, uh, haven’t gotten drunk enough to do that in a long time.”</p>
<p>It takes a few beats for the woman to formulate a response. “Alright. Well, I’m sorry for the confusion. There really isn’t much I can do right now, because if you’ve received the license in the mail it means that your marriage has already been registered in the system. It’s going to take a little while to undo that.”</p>
<p>Betty slumps forward, one hand pressed against her forehead and an elbow pressed against the counter. “Should I…send back the license?”</p>
<p>“No. We should have a copy of it on file.” More typing. “Here it is. Do you recognize the name Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third?”</p>
<p>“No,” Betty says. “That’s the thing. I have no idea who this Forsythe is. Maybe <i>he</i> applied for a license and they put my name on there by accident?”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t explain why it was sent to your residence, though, if he’s the one who applied.” She sighs again. “I’m sorry. This is very strange. I’ll do the best I can to sort it out.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Betty replies wearily, eyes squeezed shut. The woman promises to get back to her once she’s reached Forsythe and then hangs up, leaving Betty to lean against the countertop with her head in her hands.</p>
<p>How does something like this even happen? How does one accidentally get married? Without the involvement of alcohol, of course.</p>
<p>Oh God. She’s <i>married</i>. Legally, this Forsythe is her <i>husband</i>.</p>
<p>“How the hell did I get married without knowing it?” she wonders aloud, staring at the wall and dragging her hands down her face. </p>
<p>The wall stares back. It doesn’t have an answer.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>She’s halfway through an episode of <i>Parks and Recreation</i> when her phone rings. It’s a number she doesn’t recognize. </p>
<p>Betty accepts the call, expecting the woman from the county administration building, but a male voice fills the speakers. “Hello? Is this Elizabeth Cooper?”</p>
<p>“It is,” she replies. “And you are?”</p>
<p>“I’m Ju-Forsythe,” the man says. Her eyes widen. He doesn’t <i>sound</i> sixty years old. “I got your number from the woman at the county office. She called me asking about the marriage license I applied for, but I didn’t apply for one.”</p>
<p>“Oh my God.” Her head drops back against the top of the couch. “Then how did this happen? I certainly didn’t apply for one either.”</p>
<p>He sighs, and she can almost picture him shaking his head or running his hand through his hair. “That’s what I want to figure out.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>They decide to meet up at a local coffee shop to work out their next steps. Over the phone, they’d cooked up in-depth hypotheses about how it all came to be, but neither of them had been brave enough to point out what this really means: they’re married. Legally bound. They’re going to have to go through divorce or annulment or some other long and possibly expensive process to fix what seems to be an error on the county’s fault. </p>
<p>Betty wasn’t expecting to be married by twenty-three, much less divorced. </p>
<p>She stews over these thoughts as she waits for Forsythe to arrive, chewing on her lip worriedly. She looks up when the bell over the door jingles and a man walks in—a tall, dark-haired man in a wool-lined sherpa jacket and a grey beanie. His gaze lands on her, and he pauses for a beat, looking unsure, before approaching. “Are you Elizabeth?” the man asks, and <i>damn</i>, if this guy is sixty years old, he’s the best-looking sixty-year-old she's ever seen, with gorgeous pale blue-green eyes, bowed lips, and a single dark curl spilling over his forehead. </p>
<p>If she’d known he looked like <i>that</i>… “Yes,” she replies finally, cheeks flushed. “But I go by Betty.”</p>
<p>“Jughead,” he offers, and it takes her a beat to realize it’s what he goes by. He takes a seat across from her. “It’s a nickname. When people ask, I usually answer with something along the lines of ‘it’s better than the real thing’ and don’t elaborate further, but in this case, you already know that.”</p>
<p>A giggle escapes her. “Yeah, Jughead is definitely better. It’s kind of cute, actually. <i>Forsythe</i>, on the other hand—I was picturing a sixty-year-old man, or maybe some pretentious prep school graduate.”</p>
<p>His mouth twitches in amusement. “Well, I’m definitely not sixty, but I actually did attend a prep school for my senior year of high school. And <i>cute</i>?” He clutches at his heart dramatically. “You wound me. I was going for moody, sarcastic, maybe a little bit pretentious.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m definitely getting those vibes,” Betty agrees, grinning, and it dawns on her that she might be flirting. Just a bit. “How old <i>are</i> you actually, by the way?”</p>
<p>“Twenty-five,” is his reply. “You?”</p>
<p>“Twenty-three. So…annulment, right?” She’s looked into it, and it seems to be the less painstaking option of the two. Besides, it essentially erases all evidence of their marriage, which is ideal, since it was never supposed to happen in the first place.</p>
<p>Jughead nods slowly, almost hesitantly. “Yeah. So we set a court date, annul the marriage, and go our separate ways?”</p>
<p>Betty sucks in a breath. “Yeah,” she agrees, and for the first time, a little irrational part of her brain is asking, <i>what if you didn’t?</i></p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“Betts, what about this one?”</p>
<p>She glances over her shoulder at the bag of flour Jughead’s holding up. “Is it gluten-free?”</p>
<p>He scoffs. “Uh, no. I’m not a heathen.”</p>
<p>Betty rolls her eyes, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I bake with gluten-free flour. It’s so much healthier.”</p>
<p>Jughead gasps dramatically, glaring at her like she just stepped on a puppy. “That’s it. I can’t take this any longer. We’re through.”</p>
<p>“Good thing we have a court date set, then,” she retorts, hand on her hip. It takes all of her willpower to keep a straight face. </p>
<p>“Good thing,” he agrees, and then winks, slipping the decidedly <i>not</i> gluten-free flour into her shopping cart. “Alright, darling,” Jughead continues, using one of the many terms of endearment they’ve begun to throw at each other teasingly, “we still need chocolate chips, right?”</p>
<p>Betty nods, steering the cart into the next aisle and trying not to giggle at the way Jughead does a double-take when they pass the cake mix. “These muffins are going to be the best you’ve ever tasted, <i>babe</i>,” she promises. “I was kind of famous for them back in college.”</p>
<p>“They better be,” Jughead says, cocking his head thoughtfully, “or else I’m leaving you.”</p>
<p>He squeezes her hip lightly, a teasing grin pulling at his mouth, and Betty’s heart does a weird dance like it can’t decide whether it’s speeding up or stopping altogether.</p>
<p>It settles on just about beating right out of her chest, however, at the sight of Jughead Jones devouring one of Betty’s famous chocolate chip muffins in the middle of her kitchen. No one should look that hot with crumbs all over their face. “My God, Betts,” he groans, a gaping bite mark in the side of his muffin. “This is heavenly.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad you like it,” Betty comments, trying to sound sincere and nonchalant and <i>not</i> like she’s about to burst into flames just because he’s eating a muffin in front of her. And making obscene noises, but still.</p>
<p>“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” he amends, popping the last bite of muffin into his mouth eagerly. “I’m staying forever. You’re never getting rid of me.”</p>
<p><i>If only</i>, she thinks, gasping and swatting his hands away as he reaches around her to steal a second muffin. If only.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“Jug,” she says slowly, “did you eat all the popcorn already?”</p>
<p>His gaze drops to the empty bowl of popcorn and then drags up to hers, slightly sheepish. “Maybe. Or maybe <i>you</i> ate it.”</p>
<p>She arches an eyebrow pointedly. “I didn’t. That’s why I’m asking.”</p>
<p>Jughead hums like he’s pretending to think, and she refrains from rolling her eyes. “Maybe Caramel ate it.”</p>
<p>Betty glances over at her cat, who’s curled up on the carpet some five feet away. Asleep. “Mmm-hmm.” She shakes her head, amused, and a rush of affection shoots through her at Jughead’s soft grin. “I’ll go make some more.”</p>
<p>By the time they finish the movie, there’s an empty bowl of popcorn on Jughead’s lap and almost no space between them. Neither one of them dares to move at first, letting the credits roll as they enjoy their last few moments pressed against each other on the couch.</p>
<p>“I should get going,” Jughead says finally. His voice is almost a whisper, but his hesitation rings loud and clear.</p>
<p>“Okay,” she breathes back, risking a glance in his direction. The moment feels so much heavier, more intimate, than others they’ve shared. They’re really, truly alone, and it’s dark, and late, and… </p>
<p>And he’s looking at her, <i>really</i> looking at her in a way that makes her breath catch. <i>Please</i>, she thinks, unsure what she’s asking for, but he seems to know exactly what she means as he curls his fingers behind her neck and kisses her. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>“You ready to do this?”</p>
<p>Their hands are clasped between them, and it’s probably a strange look for two people who are about to go to court to get their marriage erased from existence, but Betty doesn’t care. It may have been an accident—they never found out exactly what went wrong in that county office—but at least something good came out of it: them.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Betty replies, summoning up as much courage as she possesses and sending Jughead a reassuring smile. “Let’s do this.”</p>
<p>When it’s all over and done with, when the court rules that their marriage is null and void, they find themselves curled up on Betty’s couch, Caramel purring at their feet. It doesn’t feel like the end. It’s <i>an</i> end, yes, but it’s also a beginning, the beginning of a road Betty’s never been more ready to take.</p>
<p>“I have to admit,” she murmurs, nuzzled against Jughead’s chest, “I’m going to miss being married to you, even if you did pose a significant threat to my food supply.”</p>
<p>Jughead hums against the crown of her head, and she can feel the outline of his grin. “Me too. I don’t think I’ll ever find muffins as good as yours.”</p>
<p>She shifts in his lap, stretching up to press a kiss to his jaw. “What a predicament. Maybe…” She peers up at him coyly, mouth curving into a smile. “Maybe you’ll just have to stick around.”</p>
<p>There’s a smirk playing on his lips, but his gaze is full of affection and she knows he means it when he says, “Maybe I will.”</p>
<p>He does.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know what you're thinking—how in the world did that happen? To be honest, I have no idea. I don't know how someone could possibly mess up enough to legally wed two people who definitely didn't apply for a license. Ignore the logistics, and just enjoy the story. It's fiction. :)</p>
<p>Like the last few prompts, this one ended up being longer than I expected. 6 pages for a prompt fill? Yikes. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed. I got some good feedback on Tumblr when I posted a little sneak-peek of this prompt fill, so I hope it lived up to your expectations.</p>
<p>Find me on Tumblr <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">here</a> if you want to chat! Sending you all some love &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Co-stars AU.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound of her ringtone jolts Betty awake. She groans and stretches an arm out toward the noise, fingers wiggling in an attempt to grasp her phone, which rests just out of reach on the nightstand.</p><p>A familiar pair of arms tighten around her. “Ignore it,” Jughead murmurs against her temple, nuzzling closer. “‘S too early.”</p><p>It rings for a few more seconds before going to voicemail, silence settling over the room once more. Betty can feel Jughead’s sigh of relief fluttering against her hairline. His skin is warm where it presses against hers, and she settles further into his embrace, relishing the moment.</p><p>They don’t get to do this often—their lives are as busy as ever, full of galas and premieres and filming for various projects. It’s rare enough that they get a full night’s sleep, but to spend it together is a luxury they can only afford once in a blue moon. Jughead was on a press tour for his newest book until yesterday and Betty’s spent the past few days filming a cameo for a new chick flick, but mercifully they have a break for the next week at least and Betty’s going to spend every second of it in Jughead’s company.</p><p>Always on her mind is the current secrecy of their relationship. Though her manager is less concerned about them taking over the spotlight now that Betty doesn’t have a major project in theaters, she and Jughead have decided to keep their relationship as private as possible for the time being. Logically, Betty knows it’s a good decision—she’s well aware of the pressures constant media attention can have on a relationship and the people in it. Hell, she already knows what it’s like to live in the spotlight. But it almost feels wrong to sneak around with him like this, like their love is shameful. Deep down, she doesn’t <i>want</i> to pretend, not like this. Not with him.</p><p>Her phone rings again, drawing her out of her thoughts, and this time Jughead’s the one to groan in annoyance. “That better not be Sierra,” he mutters. “How many times did we remind her that we’re taking the week off?”</p><p>It is, in fact, Betty’s manager—Sierra McCoy, a woman who probably would’ve been the mayor of Los Angeles in another life. “Hi, Sierra,” Betty says into the phone as cheerfully as she can muster, settling back against the downy pillows on Jughead’s bed.</p><p>“If Jughead’s there with you, tell him I <i>know</i> you two are taking the week off,” is the reply, and Betty almost snorts. Sierra really knows them too well. “But I just received notice of a very interesting proposition. For both of you, actually. I expect Jughead will be hearing from his manager about it soon.”</p><p>Interest piqued, Betty sits up. Jughead whines softly at the loss of body heat, and his hand comes up to lazily trace patterns against Betty’s bare back. “Netflix is developing a true-crime series based on a mystery that took place in a small town in Canada,” Sierra continues, once Betty’s put her on speakerphone, “and they’re already heavily considering the two of you for the lead roles. I told them I would let you know immediately.”</p><p>Betty’s glad she did. She’s always been a fan of mysteries—as a kid she devoured every Nancy Drew book she could get her hands on and even went as far as to single-handedly solve a string of murders when she was in high school. Jughead’s interested in true crime too, she knows; after all, the idea for his first novel, which he started writing as a teenager, stemmed from the disappearance of a classmate. Judging by his curious expression, he’s intrigued by the offer as well. “That sounds very promising,” Betty responds, raising her eyebrows excitedly at Jughead. He grins in reply. </p><p>“I’ll email you the details,” Sierra says, and then hangs up, leaving Betty to bounce excitedly on the bed.</p><p>“This is great news!” she exclaims, falling back against Jughead’s chest and craning her neck to press a kiss to his jaw. “We’d spend lots of time on set together. Honestly, that sounds like a dream come true.”</p><p>“I’d love to be your co-star,” Jughead answers honestly, flipping her around to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose. “This is as close as we’re gonna get to being a badass investigative duo, so I’ll take it.”</p><p>She giggles. “How are you ever going to restrain yourself from jumping me when you see me pretend to pick a lock?”</p><p>“Sheer willpower,” he says solemnly, winking at her smirk. “But there’s nothing stopping me now,” he continues with a wicked grin, moving to hover over her, and she laughs, falling back into the pillows.</p><p>-</p><p>The sky is dark above them, sheets of rain soaking them to the bone, but Betty is determined. Rather, <i>Emily</i> is determined—her character is much like she was as a teen: observant and endlessly curious. Beside her, Jughead—<i>Noah</i>, as his character is named—peers into the darkness, eyes catching on the sign the second hers do. “There,” he gasps, and they hurry toward it, hands pushing at the haphazardly placed branches to reveal the vehicle underneath.</p><p>“The car,” Betty breathes, and out of the corner of her eye she watches the camera sweep after her. She ignores it, as always, slipping completely into her role. “Olivia wasn’t lying.”</p><p>Their gazes meet for a split second, and in those familiar blue eyes Betty sees past the mask of his character to the man she loves with her whole heart. To the audience, the (unscripted) glance will read, <i>let’s solve this mystery, together</i>, but to Betty it’s more than just a promise of right now. It’s a promise of forever.</p><p>They open the trunk and come face-to-face with a blue and gold varsity jacket.</p><p>“Cut!” Mary, the director, yells, and she grins at the pair. “Great job. And that look of solidarity was a spot-on decision. You two are killing it with the unscripted moments. I’d say you two know your characters better than I do at this point.”</p><p>Betty bites her lip. “That’s the goal,” she says, catching Jughead’s eye. Even in the dark of the night, she can see the way his mouth twitches.</p><p>“Alright, go get some sleep.” Mary places a hand on her hip and gives them a tired, grateful look that’s almost motherly. “We’re filming the diner scene tomorrow, but then you’ll have the rest of the week off.”</p><p>They’re strolling along the waterfront at sunset one evening later that week, soaking up the last bits of freedom before they resume filming. The park is surprisingly empty, and the few people that do pass them either don’t recognize them or are considerate enough not to bother them. Feeling brave, Betty slips her hand into Jughead’s and squeezes, trying to convey without words that she’s tired of hiding this from the world. Let them say what they want to say; she’s sick of being someone she’s not. </p><p>He seems to understand the meaning behind the gesture—he always does. They’re so in sync, so understanding of one another. Betty’s so grateful she has him and all of the stolen moments they share as they work around their busy lives.</p><p>“I’m glad we took this job,” Jughead speaks up, thumb running across hers. “It’s a lot of work sometimes—late nights, long hours—but it’s worth it.” He stops, and she does too, turning toward him to catch the gentle curve of his lips. “I love working with you. I know some people go crazy spending every hour of their day with their partner, but I could never tire of you.”</p><p><i>I</i> will <i>never tire of you</i>, she could say, or <i>I treasure every moment we spend together</i>. Instead, she says it all in just four simple words. “I love you, Jug.” She’s said it a million times, and each and every time, it’s true. </p><p>The sun is setting behind him, and yet it rises in his smile. “I love you, Betts.”</p><p>That night, she sleeps better than she has in months, body curled into Jughead’s, and that morning, she wakes to his soft blue eyes and his heart beating solidly against her palm.</p><p>There’s an amused smile creeping across his face. “Sierra texted when you were asleep. Apparently the world knows our romantic walk along the water last night was exactly that.”</p><p>Her mind goes completely blank for a beat, and the words that finally escape her mouth are, “Oh my God.” She reaches over him for her phone, scanning the message he’d apparently already seen. It’s a link to a news article with a picture of Betty leaning against Jughead’s shoulder and the title “Are <i>Sweetwater</i>’s Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones dating and how did we not know about it?”</p><p>There’s something bubbling in her chest that feels a lot like relief. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad the decision was made for us,” she admits. “I was going a little crazy, torn between protecting what we have and being honest about that part of us.”</p><p>Jughead exhales in a laugh, hand carding through his dark locks. “Same. Last night, I just wanted to spend time with you like a normal couple. I wasn’t thinking at all about this crazy game we have to play, balancing our public and private lives. But now…” His lips curl softly, and she traces the line of his smile. “We’re still us, just…now everyone else knows it too.”</p><p><i>Us.</i> She presses her grin against his lips and falls into him, into the feeling of <i>them</i>. </p><p>It’s a great feeling.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yikes, it's been ten days since I posted. Writer's block is no fun. But inspiration struck today and I cranked this out for you all (especially mrscolesprouse, who requested a continuation of my celebrity AU). So here it is--a continuation of <a href="#section0002">chapter two</a>, where Betty and Jug are celebrities with a secret. I hope you enjoyed this second look into the lives of Betty and Jug as they navigate their relationship under the spotlight.</p><p>Come say hi on Tumblr @thesunandthestarss! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Matchmaker AU.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They’re at it again,” Kevin reports, dropping his tray on the table, face betraying an expression halfway between glee and exasperation.</p>
<p>Veronica glances up at her companion, one eyebrow arched. “Of course they are.”</p>
<p>Kevin sighs theatrically. “I was in the <i>Blue and Gold</i> office for all of five minutes and I was positively <i>choking</i> on all of the romantic tension between those two.”</p>
<p>It’s barely an exaggeration. Veronica’s been in Riverdale less than two months and she’s already plotting to lock Betty and Jughead in a room together until they suck it up and confess their feelings. </p>
<p>“How long has this been going on?” Veronica asks, suspecting she already knows the answer. “I noticed it the second Jughead walked into Pop’s the night of the pep rally, so I’m guessing it’s been a while.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. It’s been like this for years. Silently pining after one another and everyone knows it except them.” He sighs again, shaking his head with mild amusement. “Jughead is…well, <i>Jughead</i>, but he’s a good guy and he’d be good for Betty. But obviously, I’ve never managed to worm a confession out of him, and whenever I ask Betty about it, she goes red and vehemently denies having any romantic feelings for him.”</p>
<p>Veronica purses her lips thoughtfully, drumming her nails against the tabletop. “Sounds like we need to do something about it. Fortunately for them—” her lips curl mischievously “—I already have a plan.”</p>
<p>Kevin grins. “Thank God for Veronica Lodge.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Her plan involves Cheryl Blossom and her annual Halloween party, at which Spin the Bottle is mandated by the hostess. With a twist, of course, because as Veronica finds out later that week, seated next to Betty on Cheryl’s magnificent red couch, this version of the classic party game includes a trip into the closet for some good old fashioned canoodling. </p>
<p>“Gather round, kiddies.” Cheryl’s standing in front of the fireplace, her hands on her hips and a dangerous smirk on her face. “It’s time for a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know the rules: text me evidence of your lip-lock and I’ll let you out early.”</p>
<p>To Veronica’s left, Betty fiddles with the hem of her white halter top. She’d agreed with seemingly little reluctance to attend the party as an angel, while Veronica would play her devil counterpart, clad in a shiny red mini skirt and heels. Veronica knows the outfit is way out of Betty’s comfort zone—she’s usually sporting jeans and a pastel sweater, after all—but she looks pretty hot. Veronica hopes a certain someone thinks so too.</p>
<p>The <i>someone</i> in question is currently leaning against the doorframe a few feet away, sans costume and clearly bored. Jughead’s eyes flicker to Betty every so often, and if he’s at all affected by the long legs and smooth skin Betty’s currently showing off, he doesn’t show it.</p>
<p>“Now, who wants to tryst in the closet of love first?” Cheryl continues, scanning the crowd, though the glint in her eye says she’s not looking for volunteers. “Betty,” she purrs, gaze landing on the girl in question, “care to start us off?”</p>
<p>Cheeks aflame, Betty glances up at Cheryl, and the apprehension in her gaze is clear. But she knows better than to argue with the self-proclaimed HBIC of Riverdale High, and she manages a weak smile as Cheryl leans over the coffee table to give the bottle a spin.</p>
<p>Twelve pairs of eyes flicker up as the bottle stops, pointing to a beefy guy whose name Veronica can’t remember. The girl next to him narrows her eyes at Betty, wrapping her arm around his bicep possessively.</p>
<p>“Mmm, this should be interesting,” Cheryl murmurs from her perch on the arm of a chair, eyes flashing back and forth between a pale Betty and the couple across from her with increasing interest. “Don’t be shy, Betty. Seven minutes in the closet with Moose is all I’m asking.” She drags a perfectly manicured finger across her bottom lip, grinning wickedly. “You can bring Midge along for the ride too if you like. That should be fun.”</p>
<p>“Alright, Cheryl. That’s enough.”</p>
<p>All eyes are on Jughead now as he pushes away from the door to plant himself at the opposite end of the coffee table. He holds Cheryl’s smoldering gaze for a few long moments before reaching a hand out to Betty. “C’mon, Betts,” he says, gaze softening as it lands on her. He even manages a wry smile. “I’ll go into the ‘closet of love’ with you. Maybe you can help me decide what to play at the Twilight next weekend.”</p>
<p>There’s a sliver of a grateful smile playing on Betty’s lips as she slips her hand into Jughead’s and lets him pull her into the closet. Veronica’s shoulders slump in relief and triumph. Thank <i>God</i>. The one wild card she had—Jughead—was played in her favor. And now…</p>
<p>Veronica holds a hand out to Cheryl, eyes trained on the closet door, and her lips twitch as cool metal presses into her palm. She stands and strides toward the door, and without hesitation sticks the key in and turns it. </p>
<p>With a <i>click</i>, the door locks. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Six minutes later, Veronica’s phone dings. She pulls it out from under the waistband of her skirt and opens the text. </p>
<p>She smiles.</p>
<p>“Alright, you two,” she says, stepping forward and unlocking the door. “You can come out now.”</p>
<p>Their hands are linked between them again when the door swings open, but this time there’s a rosy blush on both their faces. “Yeah, yeah,” Betty says, waving off Veronica’s smirk. “You were right.”</p>
<p>“Of course I was,” she says smugly. “I just needed to prove it to the two of you. And my brilliant plan worked, didn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Totally. We’ve professed our undying love and all that. Now all that’s left to discuss is whether she’s taking my last name.” Jughead’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, but the flush crawling up his neck betrays him. </p>
<p>“Were you <i>all</i> in on it?” Betty asks, gaze flickering around the room with slight trepidation.</p>
<p>“Just Veronica, Kevin, and moi,” Cheryl informs her, and this time her grin is only mildly impish. “Everyone else was simply…surprised with front-row seats to the event of the year—the christening of hashtag Bughead.”</p>
<p>“So now that you’ve kissed—” Veronica waves her phone, still open to the photo Betty sent “—and confessed your feelings, what’s next for you lovebirds?”</p>
<p>Betty smiles shyly, and the two share a look of the soul-deep affection Veronica only knows them to hold for each other. “That’s for us to figure out, I guess.”</p>
<p>And figure it out they do. Veronica pops into the <i>Blue and Gold</i> office a week later to walk with Betty to their shared history class and she’s greeted with the sight of Betty pressed up against the wall, one of Jughead’s hands in her hair and the other snaking around her waist.</p>
<p>“Well, good morning,” Veronica sing-songs, grinning as the two spring apart, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. </p>
<p>“V,” Betty says breathlessly, smoothing out her skirt. “Uh, let me just…” She fumbles around for her backpack, and Veronica can’t keep the grin off her face. This is <i>so</i> much better than the pining, as adorable as that was.</p>
<p>“C’mon, Bettykins.” She loops her arm through Betty’s, noting her friend’s mussed hair and crimson face. “Let’s stop by the bathroom before class. We can’t have you looking <i>too</i> debauched in the middle of the school day.”</p>
<p>She winks at Jughead, who glares in return, but the look has less ire than usual. “Have fun,” he intones, lips curled ever so slightly as his gaze meets Betty’s.</p>
<p>“Oh, we will,” Veronica promises, mouth curving devilishly. “Probably not as much fun as you were having a minute ago, but it’ll do.”</p>
<p>She’s still cackling as Jughead shoves her into the hallway with a scowl.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hellooo again!</p>
<p>Originally, the kiddos were supposed to be college-aged in this one, but then the opening lunchroom scene with V and Kev popped into my head and I knew I was going to have to go in a different direction. So I hope you enjoyed some canon divergence/a non-murder AU in which Betty and Jug are hopelessly pining and Veronica recruits Kevin and Cheryl to do something about it. :)</p>
<p>Man, I still have like 15 of these to write and under a month to do so. I guess that's what I get for starting the challenge two months late, though to be fair I didn't know about it until then. But I'll manage. Somehow.</p>
<p>Stop by my tumblr @thesunandthestarss to chat if you're interested! I'll be there &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. when</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: coffee shop AU.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s at his usual table again. Eyes glued to his laptop, his fingers fly across the keys, pausing only when he reaches for the coffee cup beside him. As always, Betty wonders what he’s writing about, wonders about <i>him</i>. </p><p>Her coworker Toni nudges her playfully, a smirk spreading across her features. “Admiring our beanie-wearing regular again, I see.”</p><p>“I’m not <i>admiring</i> him,” Betty retorts, turning back to the espresso machine as casually as she can. “Just observing.”</p><p>It’s mostly true. Curious by nature, Betty observes <i>all</i> the different patrons that stop by the little coffee shop she and Toni work at, but the man in the beanie is certainly the most interesting. He’s here almost every day, sitting at the same table and ordering the same black coffee. He always has his laptop open in front of him, and he never forgets to wear that strange, crown-shaped beanie.</p><p>It’s mostly true, because while Betty thinks <i>mostly</i> along these lines, her mind wanders every so often (okay, maybe more than that) to his cool blue eyes and his long, spindly fingers and the soft curl that falls over his forehead. He’s usually already seated with a cup of steaming coffee by the time Betty arrives for her shift, but on the rare occasion that he’s running late or she swaps shifts with someone for the day, she’s at the register when he approaches. The interaction never fails to make her heart hiccup in her chest.</p><p>“Sure you are,” Toni replies, her eyebrow cocked like she can read Betty’s mind. “I certainly prefer the fairer sex, but I admit, the hot hipster vibe works for him.”</p><p>But it’s more than that. There’s something <i>more</i> in his eyes, in the sentences she glimpses sprawling across his laptop screen whenever she passes by his table. There’s something about him that makes her want to know him, know his mind. Betty wishes she had the courage to strike up a conversation with him, say <i>anything</i> but “May I take your order?”</p><p>“You guys aren’t still talking about Beanie Guy, are you?” A tall, dark-haired man sticks his head out of the back room, his smirk matching Toni’s. Betty groans. Sweet Pea, who also works during her shift, has unfortunately <i>also</i> noticed her infatuation with their customer. “C’mon, Cooper, don’t just ogle him from afar. Go over there and seduce him with black coffee and book quotes.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Betty risks a glance over at the man, who’s—who’s <i>looking</i> at her, she realizes, heart rattling in her rib cage. Mortified, she drops her gaze to the countertop, praying that she and her coworkers are out of earshot. She’d never be able to show her face at work again if he’d heard everything Toni and Sweet Pea had said—hell, they’ve been relatively restrained with their teasing today. God knows what he’d think if he heard some of the more suggestive jabs they've thrown at her in the past. </p><p>When she dares to look back up, his gaze is trained on his laptop once more, but there’s the smallest of smiles playing on his lips.</p><p>-</p><p>She stays late one night, taking on an extra shift. The shop is empty of customers, except for him. </p><p>He’s been sitting there for hours, filling up the room with the sound of his typing. It’s even more apparent now that the shop is pretty much empty, save for him, his laptop, and Betty.</p><p>She’s sweeping the floor around his table, trying not to disturb him, when he looks up, gaze landing on her broom. “I take it that's my cue to leave.”</p><p>It’s the sixth—or so, she’s definitely not counting or anything—time he’s spoken to her, but it still sends a tingle down her spine. “Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head a little too vehemently. “I don’t have to officially close up for another twenty minutes. Take your time.”</p><p>He nods, as much to himself as to her. She doesn’t expect him to speak again a few beats later, continuing with, “Sorry for hogging this table for so long. I’m avoiding my roommates and the party they’re hosting at our apartment for as long as possible.”</p><p>She pauses her sweeping, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “Not a party animal? I never would’ve guessed.”</p><p>The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly. “The mysterious loner vibe and time spent being antisocial at the table in the corner didn’t throw you off?”</p><p>Betty laughs through her nose at that, shaking her head with amusement. “Not at all,” she throws back, enjoying the playful glint in his eye at her reply. It feels like they’ve been doing this a long time, like they’ve been teasing each other and tossing sarcastic comments back and forth for ages. Her heart thumps in her chest.</p><p>“What do you write about, by the way?” she asks after a moment of hesitation, finally posing the question she’s been stewing over since she started working here. “I’m just curious; you’re always sitting there, writing <i>something</i>.”</p><p>He blinks, lips parting in shock as if no one’s ever bothered to ask him that before. The look vanishes just as quickly as it had appeared and he says, “Well, sometimes I do schoolwork, but usually I’m working on my novel.”</p><p>“A novel!” Betty exclaims, intrigued. “That’s really cool.” Her smile turns almost shy, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she adds, “Well, when it gets published, you’ll have to let me know so I can check it out.”</p><p>He cocks an eyebrow. “You seem confident I’ll ever make it that far.”</p><p>She mirrors the look, propping a hand on her hip. “Don’t sell yourself short. I see how much time and effort you put into it every day; I’m sure it’s an amazing story.”</p><p>He ducks his head, seemingly unsure of what to do with the compliment. “I’m going to read it the second it comes out on shelves,” she promises, smiling warmly to show him that she means it. “What genre is it?”</p><p>“It’s a mystery, based on a murder that happened in my hometown when I was a teen,” is the reply. He shrugs nonchalantly, but she can see the passion sparkling in his eyes. “Hopefully that’s not too dark. I know some people are put off by that kind of stuff.”</p><p>“Not at all,” Betty says. “I’ve always loved mysteries—reading about them, solving them.” She smiles fondly, falling into nostalgia. “I was quite the Nancy Drew wannabe as a kid.”</p><p>He’s really looking at her now, mouth drawing into a half-smile at her words. The low lighting dances across his face and Betty’s lost in the blue of his eyes for a beat. “Well, if I ever finish, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>“<i>When</i> you finish,” she corrects pointedly. “I’ll be on the lookout for a murder mystery novel by…”</p><p>“FP Jones the third, probably. I doubt my hypothetical publisher would let me slap ‘Jughead’ on the cover.” At her curious look, he sighs, and she can tell he’s told this particular story a million times before. “It’s what I go by. A childhood nickname.”</p><p>“Jughead Jones,” she says, testing his name on her lips. It’s definitely a strange nickname, especially one he voluntarily goes by, but she honestly finds it kind of endearing. “I’m Betty.” She gestures to the name tag on her apron, written in her looping cursive. “Betty Cooper.”</p><p>“Betty Cooper,” he parrots in the same way she’d said <i>his</i> name, and his crooked smile returns. “<i>When</i> I publish my novel, you can expect a signed copy.”</p><p>And he keeps his promise. Two years and many, <i>many</i> late-night conversations later, it’s in her hands: <i>Sweetwater</i> by FP Jones III. Inside, the dedication page is written to her. </p><p>
  <i>For my beloved, who never stopped believing in me or this book. May we solve many more mysteries together, both real and fictional.</i>
</p><p>Jughead smiles against her temple as she reads it aloud. “Now everyone knows I’m secretly a romantic,” he quips. “I hope you’re happy.”</p><p>Clutching the book to her chest, she turns in his arms, heart bursting at the seams. “I am.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been mulling over this one for a while, trying to figure out how I wanted them to interact, and finally managed to pick a direction and stick with it. So here you go: barista Betty and writer Jughead, the mysterious customer who caught her eye. I hope you guys are still enjoying these little one-shots, because I still have several more to go. Be on the lookout for more updates over the next month.</p><p>As always, come stop by my Tumblr @thesunandthestarss if you like! I'd love to chat. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Carnival.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was a total mistake. </p>
<p>Granted, Betty should have seen this coming. She should have known that Veronica Lodge, student body president extraordinaire, would rope her best friend into such a task. Betty takes her role as Veronica’s vice president very seriously—she’d been the one to suggest the carnival in the first place, as a way to raise money for Riverdale High’s various programs—and she’ll do just about anything to help her school and its students, present and future. What Betty didn’t expect was for <i>just about anything</i> to include kissing a large handful of Riverdale High’s student population over the span of one afternoon.</p>
<p>The kissing booth had been Veronica’s idea, naturally—Betty had raised her eyebrows at the idea even before knowing she’d be the one running it. But since Veronica was very much taken and neither she nor Archie would have wanted anyone getting any ideas, she had pawned off the job to Betty.</p>
<p>“But <i>I</i> don’t want anyone getting any ideas either,” Betty had retorted, crossing her arms. “What makes you think I want to stand around and kiss random people all day?”</p>
<p>“Come on, B,” Veronica had pleaded. “You’re a catch—smart, gorgeous, <i>single</i>. Boys will be lining up to get a chance with you. We’ll make <i>so</i> much money.”</p>
<p>Very, very reluctantly, Betty had eventually agreed to the plan, and here she is, wiping the taste of Reggie Mantle off her mouth as discreetly as possible and slipping his five-dollar bill into the jar beside her. He’d offered her another five dollars in exchange for a second kiss, but Betty had immediately rejected. Even <i>thinking</i> about kissing Reggie Mantle was enough torture for one day. </p>
<p>“So…” Veronica seemingly materializes out of nowhere, sliding up to the booth with a smirk. “Having fun?”</p>
<p>Betty arches an eyebrow. “Definitely not.” With a sour look on her face, she continues with, “Reggie just tried to stick his tongue down my throat and then had the audacity to ask if he could buy another kiss.”</p>
<p>To her credit, Veronica rolls her eyes. “That’s Reggie for you. Ugh. Now I kind of feel like I’m prostituting you.”</p>
<p>“You definitely are,” Betty agrees. “But whatever. It’ll be over soon.” The carnival is only set to run for another hour and a half, and most people have already left. (Frankly, Betty’s a little surprised it took Reggie so long to discover he could pay a couple of bucks to make her kiss him. She’s one of the only girls in their grade that hasn’t kissed him one way or another. Well, she <i>was</i>.)</p>
<p>“Alright.” Veronica winks, waving daintily over her shoulder at Betty. “Good luck. Hopefully a certain <i>someone</i> stops by.”</p>
<p>Now it’s Betty’s turn to roll her eyes, but the gesture is coupled by a flush spreading across her cheeks. “Ha ha.” When Veronica arrived in Riverdale at the beginning of their sophomore year, it took her less than five minutes upon meeting Jughead Jones to determine that he was in love with Betty, and now, over two years later, she refuses to budge on the assessment. Veronica’s got it all wrong—it’s <i>Betty</i> who's hopelessly in love with her sarcastic, sweet, beanie-wearing friend (which Veronica knows, unfortunately)—and Betty’s told her such a million and one times, to no avail. </p>
<p>But he <i>does</i> end up stopping by her booth later that afternoon, just as Betty’s beginning to pack up. “Hey, Betts,” she hears, and she turns to see Jughead with both palms splayed out on the table and the ghost of a smile on his lips. He nods toward the sign hanging from the top of the booth. “Five dollars, huh? You drive a hard bargain.”</p>
<p>She can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes her, nor the smile that sneaks onto her face. She can never help it, not when it’s him. “Hi, Jug. Are you here to buy a kiss too?” she teases. </p>
<p>Instead of the playful grin she expects, something heavy flashes across his face. “Sure. If it’s for a good cause.”</p>
<p>Momentarily shocked, it takes Betty a beat to come up with a response. “It’s mostly funding for sports,” she says pointedly, “which I know you could care less about.”</p>
<p>Jughead shrugs, and there’s something in his gaze she can’t quite place. It’s a weird feeling—she’s used to being able to read him, despite the walls he throws up for just about everyone else. “I’m feeling rather philanthropic today,” he explains simply. </p>
<p>And because she’s Betty, kind and considerate to a fault, instead of jumping at the chance to kiss her longtime crush, she says, “Oh, Juggie, you…I don’t mean to patronize you, but if you need the money…” (Just about everyone in Riverdale knows about the Joneses’ money troubles, and the last thing on Earth Betty wants is for Jughead to miss a meal because she asked him to donate to the football team or some other group that’s been harassing him for years.)</p>
<p>But her words have the opposite effect. Instead of looking grateful, he’s even more withdrawn than before, leaning back into himself. Away from her. “You don’t have to kiss me, if that’s the problem.”</p>
<p>Her heart pangs. “Oh, no, Jug, I just…” <i>I don’t know why you would want to kiss</i> me. “C’mere,” she amends finally, daring to smile ever so slightly.</p>
<p>She means to kiss him on the cheek. She really does; she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. (She’s seen the aftermath of Ethel’s advances enough times to know he definitely doesn’t want anyone kissing him full on the mouth.) But she starts to lean in, and he’s so <i>close</i> that she can see the flecks of green in his eyes, the gentle bow of his lips, and then those lips are pressed against hers. </p>
<p>It only lasts for a split second—her eyes fly open at the feeling and she wrenches back, completely startled by the hot jolt of energy that ripples down her spine. He’s just as shocked as she is, lips parted and eyes flickering with want. </p>
<p>“<i>Betty</i>.” Her name leaves his lips like a sigh, like a vow. She watches as his throat bobs nervously and then he’s cupping her face in his hands to pull her back toward him. She leans into him, eyes fluttering shut—she’s <i>kissing</i> Jughead Jones and nothing has ever felt so right. </p>
<p>Something like a whimper escapes Betty’s lips, only to be swallowed by his. She’s imagined this moment a thousand times, but none of her fantasies prepared her for the reality of Jughead’s mouth moving softly against hers and his fingers carding through the hair at the nape of her neck. </p>
<p>“Oh my God.”</p>
<p>They both startle, and Betty’s nose knocks into Jughead’s as she whips her head toward the voice. Veronica’s face is bright with shock and glee, and to her left, Archie merely looks stunned. “It’s about time,” Veronica continues, lip drawn between her teeth excitedly as she appraises them. “I was seriously considering locking you two in a closet and letting you have your way with each other.”</p>
<p>“<i>Ronnie</i>,” Betty murmurs, thoroughly embarrassed. She smooths her hands along Jughead’s shoulders and only then does she realize she’d been clutching at his lapels. </p>
<p>Veronica grins at the pair, looking much too smug. “Well, Jughead, I’m sure you can help Betty take that booth down. But don’t get too distracted. We need to be all cleaned up within the hour.” She links her arm through her boyfriend’s. “C’mon, Archiekins,” she says, steering him away and tossing Betty a wink. </p>
<p>Betty’s gaze finds Jughead’s once more, and she’s delighted to see a flush crawling up his neck. “So…” she begins, gnawing at the corner of her lip to tamper her smile, and her heart stutters when his eyes track the movement.</p>
<p>“Here.” Jughead sticks a hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. She’s confused for a beat until he holds out a five-dollar bill, creased and worn. “Payment for your services.”</p>
<p>His mouth is curved into a fond smile and she can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her. “Jug,” she breathes, and, completely ignoring the money, she snakes a hand around his neck to pull his lips back to hers. </p>
<p>Maybe the kissing booth wasn’t a total mistake after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been almost two weeks since I posted and I am SO SORRY! At this point, I've accepted that I will never finish the bingo challenge in time (I still have like 10 prompts left and only about two more weeks) but I will do my best to finish as many as possible before the deadline, so you can still expect one or two more at the very least!</p>
<p>(Just a note: this was partially inspired by <a href="https://50shades-of-bughead.tumblr.com/">50shades-of-bughead</a>'s <a href="https://50shades-of-bughead.tumblr.com/post/619647291342651392">post</a> on tumblr, which is absolutely gorgeous and you should go check it out right now. Do it.)</p>
<p>As always, thank you so so much for reading! My tumblr is <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">thesunandthestarss</a> if you want to come on over and chat. &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the Riverdale Bingo Challenge, Winter 2020. Prompt: Riverdale High.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts like any other day—an incessant alarm, an irritated sigh, a warm body wrapped around her own. Behind her, Jughead groans, nose bumping against the back of her neck as he pulls her tighter against him. “‘S too early,” he mutters, and Betty silently agrees, eyes still pressed shut. </p>
<p>It starts like any other day, but by the end, everything will be different, because this is her—their—last day of high school <i>ever</i>.</p>
<p>As much as Betty wants it to be over, wants to pack her bags and get the hell out of this forsaken town, there’s a sort of comforting familiarity in it all that she just can’t shake. Despite all the painful memories associated with this town, ones that have rooted so deep into Betty’s soul that she knows she’ll never forget, there are some good ones she never wants to lose. Riverdale is where she grew up, after all, where she sipped milkshakes and cannonballed into swimming holes and fell deeply, irrevocably in love.</p>
<p>All in all, the day feels kind of bittersweet, and that feeling follows her through the streets of Riverdale and into the halls of her high school. It’s the last time she’ll be walking through these halls, probably forever. </p>
<p>The warmth of Jughead’s hand in hers makes the strange tangle of feelings in Betty’s chest weigh a little bit less.</p>
<p>“Can you believe it?” Veronica asks in lieu of a greeting upon spotting Betty, her heels clicking against the flooring as she jogs up to her friend. “It’s our last day of senior year!” She slips her arm through Betty’s. “Graduation ceremony tomorrow and then we’re officially Ivy girls, you and I.”</p>
<p>Betty smiles distractedly, gaze falling to the little cracks in the flooring. It’s the little things that make her realize just how monumental this moment is, how much everything is changing. “Sometimes it seemed like we’d never make it to this day.”</p>
<p>Always so perceptive of his girlfriend’s emotions, Jughead’s fingers brush against the small of Betty’s back in a comforting gesture. Veronica, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to truly grasp the depth of Betty’s statement, but her chipper attitude somehow makes Betty feel the slightest bit better. “I know! Look at us now, a day away from graduating…” Her eyebrows furrow ever so slightly. “A lot has happened since the beginning of sophomore year.”</p>
<p>Maybe she <i>does</i> get it.</p>
<p>Though it may seem like Betty’s content with wallowing in complicated emotions all day, she really isn’t. She wants to enjoy this, enjoy the last day they have left before they’re handed high school diplomas and expected to become adults. (Not that they haven’t already been forced to grow up in the blink of an eye.) So she follows her friends to Pop’s at lunchtime, eating and laughing and soaking up the last bits of her small-town life. Soon, she’ll be a big-city girl, lost in the crowd of so many other perky, blonde-haired college freshmen. She won’t be the Black Hood’s daughter anymore; she won’t be picture-perfect Betty Cooper, an identity she’s been outgrowing but is nevertheless still ingrained into the minds of everyone in this town. She’ll just be Betty. </p>
<p>Just Betty. </p>
<p>But some things will never change. Mental illness will always follow her; both the physical and emotional scars of the past three years will haunt her in the middle of the night. And the things that <i>will</i> change are the ones she wishes wouldn’t—her friends, lazy days at Pop’s or picnics at Sweetwater River, waking up every morning to dark, soft hair and a sleepy smile.</p>
<p>Jughead’s going to the University of Iowa; Veronica will be in Massachusetts. Archie has committed to the Navy and will probably be shipped all around the world. The former she’ll be seeing as soon as possible—they’d refused to let each other go just like that—but Betty has no idea when she’ll ever see her other two best friends ever again.</p>
<p>(<i>Will</i> she ever see them again?</p>
<p>They’ve both become distant, for sure, and sometimes she wonders how much their friendship really means at this point, but Betty’s never been good at giving up.)</p>
<p>Her classes go by in a rush, merely a formality at this point—yearbook signing takes priority over any last-minute life lessons the teachers had planned on sharing. Looking back, Betty will distinctly remember how, after the final bell had rung, she stopped and turned around in the middle of the parking lot to stare at the building’s towering brick façade and faded lettering.</p>
<p>She’ll remember the way Jughead stops too, knowing better than to say anything to break the moment, and simply stands there as Betty says a silent goodbye to all she’s known for the past eighteen years.</p>
<p>It’s not officially goodbye quite yet—she still has a couple of months left in Riverdale before she makes the trek up to New Haven to start her new life—but it feels like it. It feels like a concrete step toward that final goodbye, a step she’ll never be able to retrace or take back.</p>
<p>“I don’t know how to explain it,” she says later, fingers laced through Jughead’s as the station wagon rumbles down the street. “I just…there’s something in me that doesn’t want to give this all up, despite everything. I don’t know. It probably sounds crazy.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t sound crazy.” Eyes still trained on the road, Jughead runs his thumb over Betty’s. “And you don’t have to know how to explain it. You feel it. That’s good enough.” </p>
<p>He doesn’t let go of her hand for the whole way home, and years later, she’ll remember that too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here's a little last-day-of-high-school thing that seemed fitting for this time of year (my school year ends in a few days). This is shorter than usual--sorry!--but I just wanted to get this out into the void, since the bingo challenge is ending soon. (Yikes.)</p>
<p>Hope you enjoyed a look into the gang's last day at Riverdale High! Thank you all so much for your continued support, I love you all. &lt;3</p>
<p>Find me on Tumblr at <a href="https://thesunandthestarss.tumblr.com/">thesunandthestarss</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A short Tumblr prompt from @bugheadchemistry &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where’ve you been?”</p>
<p>Betty whirls around at the thinly veiled curiosity in her best friend’s voice. Veronica is perched on the loveseat in their apartment, peering over the glasses resting on the end of her nose. “Oh,” Betty says, a little breathlessly, “nowhere. Just…on a run.”</p>
<p>It’s the truth. Kind of. Technically, Betty <i>had</i> just been running, but her flushed cheeks and skewed ponytail are a result of spending the better part of the morning doing <i>other</i> vigorous activities. In bed. With Jughead Jones. </p>
<p>She’d met Jughead several years ago through Veronica’s on-again, off-again boyfriend Archie, and it hadn’t taken long for Betty to develop some frankly all-consuming feelings for the witty, sarcastic novelist. It had taken one late-night Netflix binge session, barely a week ago, for their easy friendship to dissolve into something more. They’ve done their best to keep it low-key, not wanting to make a spectacle of it so early into the relationship, but knowing Veronica, it’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together.</p>
<p>Veronica is watching Betty as she tucks her keys into her purse and begins unlacing her sneakers. “Oh, Bettykins. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”</p>
<p>Her heart leaps into her throat. “What?”</p>
<p>“Sneaking around, not telling your bestie what you’re up to?” Veronica cocks her head knowingly. “You’re planning a surprise party for me!”</p>
<p>Betty just gapes at her. That is <i>not</i> what she thought Veronica was going to say. “I—”</p>
<p>“I feel <i>horrible</i> for figuring it out,” Veronica says, rolling on ahead with this (incorrect) conclusion, “but I just couldn’t bear to pretend to be surprised when you whisk me and the girls away to Lacy’s or somewhere similar. I hope I didn’t completely ruin your plans.”</p>
<p>“No,” Betty says carefully, schooling her face to hide her relief. “It’s fine, V. I assumed you’d figure it out eventually.”</p>
<p>And she had. But it seems Veronica is still blissfully unaware that her <i>bestie</i> is involved in a secret romance with her boyfriend’s best friend. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” she says quickly, before Veronica is clued into her actual secret.</p>
<p>She rushes into the bathroom as fast as possible, willing the color in her cheeks to return to a normal state. Her phone buzzes then, and she pulls it out of her pocket to glance at it.</p>
<p>There’s a text from Jughead. <i>You left your jacket.</i></p>
<p>Damn. She bites her lip. <i>I’ll get it tomorrow night,</i> she replies. <i>Hide it for me?</i></p>
<p><i>Will do.</i> A few seconds later, a red heart pops up, and she nearly drops her phone. Jughead Jones does <i>not</i> use emojis. That’s how she knows he means it, means whatever this seemingly insignificant heart is supposed to mean. </p>
<p>Her own heart does a flip as she types out her reply. It’s just as simple—and just as monumental—as his. She selects the rotating pink hearts and the kissy face emoji and hits send before she can second-guess herself.</p>
<p>They’ve only been dating a week. She knows that. But in all honesty, she’s been halfway in love with him for years, and if his midnight confession a week ago is anything to do by, he’s in a similar boat. </p>
<p><i>Pull yourself together,</i> Betty urges herself, but she can’t wipe the smile off her face as she strips off her clothes and hurries through her shower. </p>
<p>She has a surprise party to plan, after all.</p>
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